Simple Man
by Canimal
Summary: Forced to take an immediate leave from the Ministry because of an embarrassing breakdown, Hermione finds solace in a secluded cottage with a reclusive widower the only neighbor for miles. Rodolphus simply wanted to live the rest of his life alone in peace and quiet. He wasn't expecting the girl next door to worm her way into his cold, empty life.
1. Breakdown at the Ministry

Breakdown at the Ministry

Twenty-five years old and already divorced. Or as good as anyway. Hermione Granger was not used to failure. In fact, she spent almost the entirety of her life working harder and longer than everyone else out of fear that she would fail to measure up to her impossible standards. The Wizarding world was anything but welcoming to a Muggleborn witch who frequently outperformed and outshone her peers with their ancient, noble Pureblood surnames.

Her marriage to Ronald Weasley could not be considered anything else other than a complete failure. Following the emotional highs and lows that they both experienced following the end of the war that had nearly claimed both of their lives, the young couple clung to each other, relying on the other for all of their emotional support and stability. The glaring problem with counting on someone else for her emotional support while he simultaneously relied on hers meant that neither was truly getting the support they really needed.

Hermione chose to bury herself in her work. Ron chose to bury himself in more than a dozen different witches impressed by his status as a war hero and close proximity to the Chosen One, Harry Potter. At first they could convince themselves that they were happy. Living a lie gets easier the longer one lives it. She knew her husband was unfaithful. Knew that he was sneaking around under the guise of 'auror duties' when he was really trolling for eager conquests in various pubs around the country. Ron depended on her aversion to reading newspapers following all of the blatant lies that had been printed over the years about the so-called Golden Trio. He conducted his affairs brazenly out in the public eye. Hermione chose to ignore his indiscretions by hiding even further in her work fighting for werewolves' rights.

She might have been able to ignore the glaring problems with their marriage just a little bit longer if Ron hadn't chosen to desecrate their marital bed with one of his cheap slags. Maybe he wanted her to find out. It was the only explanation that made any sense. Her husband did not care for school but he was far from being an idiot. Likely he saw fucking the woman in the same place his wife slept each night when he _knew_ she was coming home early as just another strategic move on the chessboard of life.

There had not been any thrown curses or hexes when she entered their bedroom to find an unfamiliar blonde bouncing up and down on her husband's cock. She did not even scream obscenities or threaten to rip his bollocks from his body. Simply stood in the doorway with her arms crossed waiting patiently to be detected. The other woman was the first to notice her presence. She screamed and jumped off of the annoyed wizard. Hermione's reputation preceded her as a dangerous enemy to have. While the frightened woman scrambled to gather her discarded clothes, the married couple simply stared at each other. Ron had a challenging expression, almost as if he was daring Hermione to cause a scene or say a word. Hermione's own features were impassive, revealing none of the molten anger bubbling up inside of her body.

After several intense seconds of the most uncomfortable staring match in their collective history, Hermione turned on her heel. She was gone from their flat before Ron's latest conquest even found her knickers. Her next stop required no thought. Forgetting the lunch date she had planned with all of her sisters-in-law, a monthly tradition they started years earlier, she Apparated back to the Ministry. Instead of heading back to her private office on Level Four, Hermione directed her steps to the Wizengamot Administrative Services office on Level Two. She needed a divorce.

The little chit working the reception desk really should not have gasped when the well-known witch and respected Ministry official announced her intentions to dissolve her six year marriage with the cheating bastard who likely used his silver tongue to encourage that day's tart to stick around for another round now that his wife was gone. In hindsight, Hermione really should have left her wand in her pocket. There was nothing to be gained by hexing the witch's mouth shut. In that moment, however, Hermione was not thinking clearly. She was only half-aware of the words she screamed at the mortified and silently sobbing receptionist. In her haze of extreme anger she could only remember clips of phrases like, "that cheating arsehole will regret the day he ever crossed me" and "they haven't invented a painful enough spell yet" and perhaps most embarrassingly, "guess this explains why I haven't gotten a halfway decent shag in over a year." The level of her voice brought curious onlookers from all corners of the Level.

"Hermione, darling, let's go upstairs to my office," the Minister suggested. Kingsley had been in a meeting with the Chief Warlock when her shouting began.

"No, Kingsley! I'm not leaving her until I have a piece of parchment in my hand ending my farce of a marriage to Ronald Weasley!"

Whispers began in earnest all over the department at her announcement. From the day their marriage was finalized, Hermione and Ron had been set up on a pedestal in their society as _the_ couple to be and emulate. Despite what went on behind closed doors, there were many who admired them. To witness firsthand the breakdown of that happy union and an emotional collapse from one of its members must have been prime fodder for the gossip mill. Seeing the giggling form of Marietta Edgecombe not even attempting to hide her glee at the event, Hermione found a new victim for her ire. A stinging hex right to the horrible woman's heavily made-up face lessened some of Hermione's anger.

" _Expelliarmus_!"

Hermione's wand flew backwards out of her hand. Ignoring the sobs of her victim, she spun around on her heel to glare at the person who dared to steal her wand. Kingsley's jaw was clenched and his unblinking eyes revealed the depths of his anger. Hermione gulped. She knew he was a dangerous man but she had never seen it directed towards her before.

"You will come with me to my office _now_."

She had no choice but to comply with the man's orders. As she followed the infuriated Minister for Magic, Hermione could see a few of the bystanders rush to the aid of the two women she jinxed in her temper tantrum. Hermione struggled to keep up with Kingsley's long strides. He was a full foot taller and moved quickly. His office was located on Level One, just a short trip up the staircase. Kingsley chose not to speak a word until they were inside his office and the door shut and charmed with an impenetrable silencing charm.

"Care to explain to me what all of that was about?" His tone was much gentler and warmer than it had been downstairs.

"I just… Ron…"

Hermione buried her face in her hands. Strangled sobs came out of her throat. The moment her close friend and former battle comrade wrapped his strong arms around her shaking frame, the tears she feared would never end began. Kingsley held her and crooned sweet, soothing words as she drenched the front of his robes with all of her tears of anger, of sadness, of fear, of pain, of humiliation. The Minister was a patient wizard, never trying to hurry her through her grief.

When the last of her tears were shed, Kingsley carefully pushed her a few inches back to stare into her bloodshot eyes. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and led her over to one of the comfortable armchairs usually reserved for important visitors. A clean handkerchief was placed in her hand.

"Please excuse me a moment," he begged.

Kingsley wrote a quick note on an official sheet of Ministry memo paper. A quick spell fashioned it into an airplane that weren't zooming out of his temporarily cracked door. Satisfied that his message was on its way to its desired location, Kingsley crossed his expansive office to take the chair next to Hermione.

"You know I can't ignore the fact that you drew your wand on two employees and jinxed them, right?"

She nodded her head in understanding. Now that the heightened emotions she had been feeling were calmed, she was left with the sinking realization that she was in a great deal of trouble. Even a major emotional upheaval was not enough to justify her actions. Considering there were no aurors in his office, Hermione felt like she could safely assume that she hadn't violated enough laws to earn a sentence in Azkaban. Of course the day was still young. She could still murder her husband before the day ended.

"I am going to officially suspend you for six weeks, Hermione."

"But Kingsley!"

He held up an imperious hand to remind her who was in charge. When the Minister spoke, everyone else was to listen.

"You haven't taken a vacation in two years, Hermione. It's unhealthy. Even if this incident didn't happen today I was going to ask you to take some time off. You need a break, my girl."

Hermione really wished she could argue with him, but she knew he was right. She was exhausted, always running herself ragged. Ron was not wrong when he frequently accused her of using work to hide from her problems.

"My cousin owns a couple of beautiful cottages near Keswick. Beautiful area. She doesn't get a lot of visitors this time of year. January is still a bit chilly for most tourists. We were just having lunch yesterday and she mentioned she had a vacancy in one of the cottages."

"What is your point, Kingsley?"

"You are going to spend the next six weeks recuperating at her cottage."

Hermione was annoyed by his suggestion, or rather, his explicit order. Who was he tell her where she was going to spend her forced vacation? How dare he assume she would just willingly do what he said?

"It is my gift to you, Hermione," he continued. "Sada will give me the family discount. You need some time to yourself, love."

"I can't just run away, Kingsley. My life is here."

"And it is my opinion that you need a long vacation _from_ your life."

"This being the Minister for Magic thing has really gone to your head. You can't just order me about."

Kingsley pointed his wand to his desk. A silver frame came flying across the room straight into his hand. He gave it to Hermione to examine. A small cluster of smiling faces stood in front of a quaint, little cottage. Hermione hated that the location looked appealing and especially hated to find that all of Kingsley's family members were gorgeous with perfect teeth. Some people had all of the luck.

"So what would I do in your cousin's cottage for six weeks?"

"When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep?"

Hermione glowered at her friend. Was it that obvious? Did she look so horrible that it was clear to tell that she hadn't slept more than four or five hours at a time for as long as she could remember? She hated how perceptive the wizard was.

"It's a relaxing place," he explained. "I, myself, have spent a great deal of time there."

"Alone?"

Half of his mouth curled up in a cheeky, half-grin.

" _Sometimes_."

"Ugh, Kings, don't tell me that I'm about to stay in the place where you have your illicit affairs."

His laughter rang through his office. The half-grin morphed into a full smile. Kingsley gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Nothing _illicit_ about them. I'm single. I can see whomever I want."

Thinking about spending days at a time just sleeping in a comfortable bed in the quiet countryside sounded heavenly. Hermione chose to forget Kingsley's remarks. Imagining going back to her flat to confront Ron after her humiliating afternoon was too much. She wondered how she could get to the cottage without packing a single bag. Maybe she could just go shopping instead.

As if on cue, there was a hard knock on the door. Kingsley rose from his chair to rush towards the entrance to his office. Moments later a distraught and flustered Fleur Weasley was pushing past Kingsley to cross the room. She was speaking a flurry of French Hermione was only understanding about half of. Her arms were outstretched. When she was close enough to reach, Fleur pulled the younger witch into a tight embrace.

"Oh, ma chèrie! The news eez 'orrible. We were waiting for you to arrive when Arthur's patronus arrived," she explained. "Angelina and Audrey are packing your bags and Ginny eez likely hexing 'er bruzzer's testicles."

Hermione felt heartened by the support she was getting from her eldest sister-in-law. Over the years, especially after she convalesced under Fleur's watchful eye following her torture, the two women had grown quite close. Knowing that she had even more allies in the forms of her remaining three sisters-in-law was also encouraging. Most of her life had been spent without fierce female relationships.

Kingsley spent the next half an hour patiently answering all of Fleur's questions about Hermione's proposed vacation spot. All of the details sounded perfectly lovely to the French witch. Hermione was still a bit skeptical. There was a reason why Hermione had not taken a holiday from work in a very long time. Too much time spent being idle grew on her nerves quite quickly. From what the Minister was telling them both, it sounded as if Hermione was expected to spend six weeks having lie-ins every day and taking obnoxiously long bubble baths. She supposed that it would be nice to do a bit of reading for pleasure. It had been _years_ since she devoured a good novel.

"I like the sound of no owls," Fleur decided. "You will need time to relax, 'ermione. You do not need to read the newspapers. No doubt they will be 'orrible."

Even though she was perfectly capable of Apparating anywhere that she wished to, the thought of being in an area specifically charmed to keep owls away seemed a bit like asking for trouble to Hermione. Wasn't too much seclusion considered unhealthy? Fleur did have a point about the newspapers though. She was certain that a particularly juicy headline was being cooked up at that exact moment in the Daily Prophet offices. Edgecombe would probably run straight to Rita Skeeter for an exclusive interview. There had been many days in Hermione's life when she wished that she would have been able to live a life away from the newspapers like any good lady. They were supposed to have their names in the newspapers only three times in their entire lives: when they were born, when they married, and when they died. Anything else was considered scandalous and vulgar.

Any further depressing thoughts she might have had were interrupted by more knocking on the door. Kingsley escorted Angelina and Audrey Weasley and Ginny Potter to the same seating area of his office. All three women were carrying large bags filled with Hermione's belongings. Each of them took the time to embrace Hermione. While she appreciated the sentiments and absolutely adored every single one of them, she had always been a bit jealous that they had been able to find happiness with husbands they were all still quite madly in love with. She had always felt the odd one out when they sat around the lunch table discussing the wonderful aspects of their beloveds that they loved the most. Usually she had only been able to contribute a few tense words about Ron.

"I am so sorry, 'Mione," Ginny apologized. "I can't believe my brother. Well, yes, actually I _can_ , but I wish I couldn't."

"We weren't sure what you would want us to pack, so we packed it all," declared Audrey. "Angie used a spell to summon everything that belonged to you. One bag has all of your clothes. One has all of your shoes and personal items. The other has everything else. We didn't want you to not have something you needed."

She thanked each woman in turn for their help. When they were satisfied that they were leaving Hermione in good hands with the Minister, each of them embraced Hermione one final time before leaving. Kingsley deftly charmed the bags to shrink and lighten until he could hold all of them in one hand.

"Let's take the floo directly to the Employee Entrance," he suggested. "I can Side-Along you to the cottage once we are outside."

A few minutes of dizzying travel later found Hermione standing outside of the most picturesquely English countryside cottage. If a Hollywood film studio wished to recreate an idyllic spot, they would have built exactly what she was standing in front of, blue painted shutters and all. A well-trodden pathway through the grass led down to the shores of a lake. If it had not been the middle of winter, Hermione was certain she would be seeing a luscious garden of blooming plants and flowers.

Kingsley's cousin Sada Shafiq was waiting for them when they arrived. A fashionably dressed witch in her early forties, Hermione would not have been surprised to see the woman on the front of any fashion magazine. She had a rich caramel complexion and hauntingly beautiful green eyes. If she had not greeted the younger witch with a warm smile so similar to her cousin's, Hermione might have assumed she was something of a Pureblood snob.

"Thank you so much for allowing Hermione the use of your cottage on such short notice, Sada," Kingsley stated.

"No, it's a pleasure. It was just going to be sitting empty. This is a cottage that just begs for guests."

The Minister kissed his cousin's cheek and gave Hermione one final embrace before rushing back off to London. He was an important wizard after all. Once she was alone with the other witch, Hermione began to feel a bit ill at ease. One more warm smile from Sada calmed her down immensely.

"I'm afraid I'm about to have to dash off too, but everything is fairly self-explanatory," Sada explained. "There is a Muggle market just down the road a bit. Makes for a lovely walk if you're inclined. It gets very quiet around here. Hope that doesn't bother you."

"No, I'm sure it will be fine."

Hermione was prepared to step inside the front door when a figure appeared in her peripheral vision that startled her. Spinning around quickly remembering all of the reflexes she had honed during the war, she snorted and rolled her eyes when she realized the creature she was preparing to hex was nothing but a fluffy, large dog. At almost two hundred pounds, the Saint Bernard was massive. It sat on its back legs just staring at Hermione.

"That's one of Rod's dogs," Sada stated. "Sweet thing, but a bit pushy. Scratch him a bit behind the ears and he'll usually go away."

Dogs had never been one of Hermione's favorite beings. They were too loud, too smelly, too hairy. The only dog she had ever felt any kind of affection for was Snuffles and only then because she knew who he really was. Cats had always made more sense to her. They were more independent and did not need constant affection to be happy.

"Who is Rod?"

Sada pointed to the other cottage only about twenty feet away from Hermione's. They were exact replicates of each other, at least from the outside. No other dwellings could be seen anywhere near.

"He's the permanent resident of that cottage. You'll probably never see him. Keeps to himself mostly. Likes the quiet."

"Oh."

"Lovely man though. Widowed, poor thing. During the war, I think. He doesn't talk much. He has this dog and a little puppy that is going to be as gigantic as this one, I think."

Sada showed Hermione exactly where to scratch to appease the dog. While she was not thrilled about touching the beast, she acquiesced at Sada's insistence. Instead of running off back towards his own cottage, the dog simply sniffed Hermione's hands and legs. Satisfied that Hermione had everything she needed, the hostess Disapparated minutes later.

Hermione was alone for the first time since she stormed out of her flat. It felt strange and disquieting. All of the emotions from earlier that she had been working so hard to stifle came crashing down on her at once. She hardly had time to sit down on the step in front of the door before the tears began.

Crying had always felt like a weakness to Hermione. There had been times in her life when she thought existing would have been easier if she could simply keep the tears bottled up inside. With her elbows resting on her thighs, she covered her face with her hands to sob all of the anxiety and pain she had been experiencing since she walked in on her husband with his latest witch. She couldn't be sure how long she cried. Part of her began to feel at one point that she would never stop.

A gentle nudging at her elbow startled Hermione into stopping her cries. The dog with its soulful expression on its furry face just stared at her. Looking in his eyes, she could almost sense a kindred spirit. Without waiting for an invitation, he sat on the step next to her and leaned his entire body against hers. Realizing the animal was doing what it could to comfort her in her time of sorrow only made Hermione start to cry again. Forgetting her aversion to all canines, she threw her arms around the animal's neck. She hugged him close until she felt the last of her tears slip away.

* * *

Rodolphus Lestrange would never say that he _liked_ living alone. Only that it was easier. No one was there to criticize him if he left his wet towels on the floor or if his dirty socks didn't quite make it into the dirty clothes hamper. There was no shrill voice constantly shrieking in his ear questioning his masculinity and degrading him for preferring to spend his time around silent animals.

Part of him would admit to being a bit sad that his wife was dead. There had been _some_ happy times over the years, of course. When he stopped to consider them, he could even spare a small smile or two for the woman who became a dark caricature of the person she started life out as. But when the all-too-brief moments of melancholy passed, all he could think of was he was sad that he hadn't been the one to wield the wand the wiped the bitch off of the face of the Earth.

He had not planned on surviving the last war. In fact, he was tempted more than once to openly insult the Dark Lord to his face just so his misery could be ended. Only the small shred of self-preservation that he still possessed kept his mouth shut. That and the sinking realization that Trixie would likely be the one to bring about his death and his blushing bride had a terrible habit of playing with her food. So instead of throwing his life away, he'd made himself as inconspicuous as possible. He followed orders and kept out of everyone's way. While he did not openly defy the Dark Lord, he certainly did not work to curry his favor either.

An opportunity presented itself during the early days of the war. Rodolphus was ordered to accompany his fellow Death Eaters in their attempt to capture the Potter boy. Their master had plans to murder him to appease his paranoid mind. His niece, Andy's daughter, struck him with a fairly innocuous spell that knocked him off of his broomstick. He had never been a particularly strong flier. Never had the stomach for it. In mid-air he summoned enough courage as he was plummeting towards the ground to Disapparate.

He had a special talent that kept him alive and out of the rest of the war. Relying on his prodigious Transfiguration skills, he spent the remainder of the last war cuddled up on the rug in front of the roaring fireplace in the Three Broomsticks pub. He spent his days listening for any news he could about how the war was going and he spent his nights warming the lovely Madam Rosmerta's bed. Of course, she wasn't aware the skinny, neglected stray dog that showed up at her backdoor begging for scraps the night the Ministry was overtaken by the dark Lord was really a wizard. She had a large heart and did not hesitate to bring him in out of the rain. There were certainly worse ways to spend a war than receiving belly rubs from the pub's patrons and cleaning up the food on the floor that was dropped. By the time his master was finally killed once and for all, Rodolphus was perfectly content to remain a house pet for the remainder of his life.

Everything changed with the end of the war. As more and more Death Eaters were being rounded up on a daily basis, Rodolphus no longer felt comfortable staying so close to wizards. He travelled the countryside, only narrowly missing being picked up a few times by the Muggle dogcatchers. Somehow he managed to retain the knowledge that his younger brother had a former girlfriend who inherited a couple of country cottages that she let out.

Finding the socialite Sada Shafiq had been deceptively simple. While it wasn't the Imperius Curse, he certainly could have been locked back up in Azkaban for the spells he cast on the woman. He assuaged his conscience by reminding himself that he never failed to pay the woman handsomely for his modest cottage. She had a permanent tenant who paid more than she would have gotten otherwise and if she always felt a little muddleheaded around him, it wasn't exactly as if he was _hurting_ her.

The sounds of Apparition next door got his attention that afternoon. January was never a popular time for tourists. He glanced out the closest window to see Sada opening the windows to air out the musty smell that could sometimes creep into the cottage when it was without an occupant for any length of time. Curious to know what to expect, he pulled a warm jumper on to speak with the witch. His new puppy Millie bounced after him on her oversized paws.

"Hello there, Rod," she greeted, the bemused expression back on her pretty features. "Haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

"Good, Sada. Thank you. What's going on?"

There seemed no point in stalling for the sake of politeness. Especially not when the woman was likely to forget everything they spoke about moments after she walked out of his presence anyway.

"My cousin booked the cottage for the next six weeks."

" _Six_ weeks? Who is coming to stay that long?"

"Not sure, exactly, but knowing Kingsie it's likely one of his lady friends. Can't ever keep up with that man is doing."

Rodolphus rolled his eyes. That's all his sensitive animagus ears needed. Six weeks of creaking bedsprings next door reminding him that it had been a very long time since he last entertained his own lady friend. Infrequent trips to the Muggle village nearby hardly presented the adequate opportunities to develop any kind of meaningful relationship with a member of the fairer sex. Of course the perpetual fear of one day stumbling upon a woman that could best his Trixie in all aspects of horridness made him a bit gun shy.

"He also asked me to strengthen the anti-owl wards," she continued to explain. "Makes me think it is someone important. Maybe someone running from a scandal."

The witch's obvious interest in the private aspects of a complete stranger's life was just a bit distasteful to Rodolphus. He understood the desire to be alone and away from the trappings of the Wizarding world. Forget the fact that he would likely be chucked back in Azkaban if he was ever discovered to still be alive, he had very few reasons to be attracted back to the world he grew up in. The older he became, the less he wanted to be around the people who used to fill his life.

"I'll just leave you to it then, Sada."

Following a nod and a warm smile to the witch, Rodolphus walked back to his own cottage. His curiosity was piqued. Who was seeking out _his_ refuge for their own hiding place? It did not seem to matter much the more he thought about it. They would likely never see each other. He worked hard at being as inconspicuous as possible.

He sat in his favorite armchair in front of the roaring fireplace with little Millie snuggled up in his lap. It would not be much longer before the sweet girl was too large to fit in the chair with him comfortably. The thought made him a bit sad. They must have both dozed just a bit without meaning to. Millie barked softly at the sound of the Apparition next door. Rodolphus sat up quickly, accidentally dropping the puppy to the floor.

The window over his kitchen sink provided a perfect view of the front of the cottage next door. Rodolphus recognized the current Minister for Magic easily. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been an infrequent guest over the years. He watched him interact with his younger cousin. All he could see of the newest guest was the hem of her dark blue cloak. The distance was too great to make out a clear identification.

As soon as the Minister Disapparated, Rodolphus transformed into his animagus form. He spent years before he was locked up in Azkaban learning and studying to be an animagus. It was a branch of magic that required intense amounts of concentration and discipline. Realizing that he would have a way to avoid his wife indefinitely had been the motivating factor to push through the hardest parts of the training. Millie barked excitedly to see him as a dog. They both enjoyed playing in front of the fire. Reminding the pup with one gruff that he was Alpha, Millie settled down. He stared at her until she climbed up on the oversized pillow in front of the fireplace that was her bed.

Opening the door to the cottage was not difficult considering how large his paws were. Rodolphus closed the distance between his cottage and the two witches in just a few short moments. He stopped in his tracks when the little one spun around and pointed her wand at him. The sharp smell of fear was wafting off of her in thick waves. It tugged a bit at his heart to see one so young so frightened. Even when she relaxed slightly after realizing he was just a dog, she still was afraid. He found his curiosity growing even stronger the longer she stood there.

He was fairly certain she was the Granger girl. It had been years since he picked up a newspaper, but she was not exactly a woman one forgot easily. She was older, naturally, than he remembered. Her hair was shorter and she was only slightly taller. He would still tower over her as a man.

"Lovely man though. Widowed, poor thing. During the war, I think. He doesn't talk much. He has this dog and a little puppy that is going to be as gigantic as this one, I think."

Rodolphus would have snorted if he wasn't a dog. As if being widowed was a bad thing in his case! Sada scratched him behind the ears in just the spot he loved. When the Granger girl followed her lead to do the same, he almost whimpered. _Get a hold of yourself, you old dog!_ He was a simple man, living a simple life with no complications. Developing even a tiny puppy dog crush on the woman would be a terrible idea.

Despite Sada's assurances that he would go away once he was scratched, Rodolphus' curiosity had still not been satisfied. He wanted to know why the woman was there. Why was she hiding in the cottage for the next six weeks? Was she one of the Minister's _special friends_? Or was she running away from her life just like he was?

He did not expect the woman to start crying the moment Sada left. The sound of her sobs clenched at his heart. Rodolphus wanted to run away, wanted to leave the woman alone to her grief. His paws would not move. Finally he moved closer to the step she was sitting on. He gently nudged at her elbow to get her attention. The cries stopped for a brief few moments as they just stared into each other's eyes. Her tear-filled whiskey colored eyes softened. He sat down on the step next to her and simply leaned his body into hers. She looked like she needed some support. He did not have much that he could offer, but he could give her at least the realization that she was not alone. She threw her arms around his neck and began to cry unashamedly into his fur.

Rodolphus leaned further into her small frame. If there was anyone else who understood pain and sadness, it was the man masquerading as a Saint Bernard. He would sit there until she didn't need him any longer.


	2. Week One: Monday - Thursday

_Author's Note: So it may have come to your attention that there is not a set update schedule on this story. Fluff is not my specialty. This is getting me out of my comfort zone a little bit, so I'm afraid updates will be sporadic. Simple Man will never be abandoned. Real life has been a bit of a bitch lately making my updating not as frequent as I would like. If you don't understand yet how real life can be a bitch, then just wait my sweet, summer child!_

 _I anticipate chapters to this story to run on average between 3,000 to 4,000 words._

* * *

Week One – Part One

Tears were a weakness. How many times had Hermione chastised herself for allowing her emotions to drip out of her eyes and down her cheeks? No one ever got anywhere by crying. Except maybe pushed out the door or lower in someone else's esteem. She could never understand why when she attempted to be so logical and analytical about every single facet of her life, she would still fall victim to these blubbering fits of melancholy.

It had been a rough day certainly, but what excuse could she possibly have for wetting the fur of the reclusive neighbor's poor dog? She was ashamed of herself for being unable to remain perfectly stoic at all times. Breaking down did nothing except further the notion that women were emotional beings unable to think clearly in times of stress or great upheaval. She prided herself on being stronger than the average overly sensitive witch.

Remembering that she was Hermione _Fucking_ Granger, a witch held to impossibly high standards she had set for herself, she released her hold on the sympathetic canine. With a pat on its head, she sat up straight.

"Sorry. It's been a really shit day for me."

Instead of making her feel like even more of a fool for speaking to a creature without the ability to respond, the large Saint Bernard whimpered. He nudged her with his nose. Hermione scratched him one last time behind the ears and stood up to her somewhat shaky feet.

"You should run along home now. I'll be okay."

He whined one last time. Hermione smiled one of the first smiles she had attempted since walking in on her husband with his latest slag. She granted the dog one last vigorous scratch behind his fluffy ears before stepping inside the cottage for the first time. Part of her felt a little guilty shutting the door on the creature's sad face.

The cottage was small, yet cozy. Hermione felt certain that she could be content with her accommodations. Whether or not she was actually planning on remaining there for the entire six weeks was still up in the air. She wasn't sure how she was expected to fill the hours of that many days without some kind of project to complete. How could Kingsley expect her to remain idle for so long? She had _never_ been happy to lie around with no purpose.

There was one main room that was comprised of the living area, the tiny kitchen and a little dining table. A large rock fireplace dominated most of the space. A plush couch and a deep armchair just waiting to be sat on. Hermione walked through the open doorway to the only bedroom in the entire house. The massive bed took up most of the bedroom. It was an item of furniture that just begged for long naps and late nights. Preferably not alone. She set the three bags charmed to hold everything she owned down on the floor. A luxurious bathroom was connected to the bedroom. Only allowing herself a quick peek into the last room of the house she had not yet seen, Hermione was pleased to see an extra-large, deep bathtub next to a large window overlooking the back garden. A small fireplace next to the tub would provide additional warmth when she decided to take advantage. She could only imagine how relaxing it would be to sink into. No doubt she would take advantage of that more than once during her stay.

Even though it was not even late afternoon yet, Hermione was exhausted. She was used to not getting much sleep each night and crying took a great deal out of her. Removing her shoes and nothing else but her cloak, she slipped underneath the heavy blankets. Just as she snuggled under the covers, enjoying how deep and soft the bed was, Hermione began to giggle quietly. She tried not to imagine the stories the bed could tell about the Minister. Kingsley's private life was likely more adventurous than she cared to know about. More than once she had accidentally walked in on a particularly juicy story he was sharing with some of the men of the Order and wished she hadn't.

Falling asleep was easy once she allowed her mind to rest. Hermione did not open her eyes or even move position until the sun was long gone from the sky. She opened her eyes slowly to allow her vision to adjust to the dimness. One of the features of the cottage that must have been attractive to many of its visitors was the distinct lack of a clock. Time must have no meaning for Sada's guests.

She pulled herself out of the bed with the tiniest bit of reluctance. Lounging in a comfortable bed with no plans or deadlines looming ahead was a feeling she could not remember, but certainly one she could enjoy for a _short_ time. Only a short time. Hermione decided to take a long, hot shower. Once underneath the soothing spray her mind began to wander to places it shouldn't.

Every cell in her body was humiliated by her behavior at the Ministry. How would she ever be able to go back there and look people in the eye again? Yes, she was a wronged wife and was having one of the worst days of her life. Yes, cursing the Edgecombe bitch felt pretty bloody fantastic. But she was still embarrassed. She had a reputation to uphold. Hermione Granger-Weasley was known throughout the country for her no-nonsense approach to every single thing she did in her life. It was easier for those in the Ministry to forget her 'accident of birth' when she proved herself more capable than almost all.

Hermione lingered underneath the fall of water for much longer than she normally would. Ron always had an issue with her taking long showers. Maybe it was a remnant from his childhood growing up in a house full of nine people. Every time she dared to take longer than just a few minutes he would bang on the shower door demanding that she hurry up. She never understood what his issue with her 'wasting the hot water' that was charmed to never run out was exactly. Of course they had thousands of little rows over the years that made no sense.

She wrapped her body in a large, fluffy towel and crossed to the bedroom. Digging inside the bag containing all of her clothes would take too long. A summoning spell brought up the first set of pajamas. Pleased with the warm blue flannel, Hermione dropped the towel and dressed. Once the last button was fastened and her bare feet were slipped into a pair of also-summoned slippers, her stomach began to growl loudly. It had been a long time since she last ate. Maybe the night before? Lunch the previous day? Honestly she skipped more meals than she consumed. It was an unhealthy habit that she desperately needed to break.

There was no edible food within the four walls of the cottage. Ordinarily she would have just ignored her need to eat, but the incessant growling would not let up. She headed back to the bedroom to change into actual clothes. It appeared that she would have to apparate somewhere for takeaway. Just as her foot crossed the threshold into the bedroom, she was startled by a loud bark at the front door.

If she had not spent a portion of the afternoon crying on the dog's neck, she would not have even considered opening the front door. The moment she had the door opened wide, Hermione could not contain a laugh at the sight she was greeted with. Her neighbor's large dog was seated on the top of the steps with a covered basket dangling from his mouth. He set the basket down between his paws and turned his head to look at something towards Rod's cottage. Hermione could have sworn that the sharp bark was a sound of exasperation. Closer inspection revealed a growing Saint Bernard puppy attempting to run in a straight line towards them. The bottle of wine charmed to her back was obviously a burden she was unused to carrying. Hermione laughed, plucked up the puppy in her arms and released the charm sticking the bottle to her back. A quick lick on her cheek of gratitude made her laugh again before she set the squirming and overly proud puppy back on her feet.

She pulled back the linen napkin covering the top of the basket. Inside was a steaming plate of roast chicken, potatoes and vegetables that made the chorus of growls within her gut sound again. A note was placed on top of the charmed plate.

 _Thought you might be hungry. I made too much. Have a good evening. –Rod_

Hermione smiled at the short note. It was a terribly kind gesture from a complete stranger. Sending his dogs to deliver made it all that much more charming. She wondered if part of the reason he was such a recluse was due to a shy nature. Summoning a quill with her wand, she penned a response just below his note.

 _Rod, Thank you for your kindness. –Hermione_

The larger of the two dogs immediately took the note in his mouth once she folded it up. Both dogs ran off back towards the other cottage. Hermione watched them bounce off back home with a big smile on her face thinking what strange dogs they both were. Especially the large one. She was convinced that he must belong to a strange man.

* * *

Rodolphus stood at the kitchen sink finishing up the last of the dirty dishes. He could use magic, of course, but at some point he learned that there was something soothing in washing up the Muggle way. Magic was helpful when one was in a hurry to move on to the next task or moment in their lives. He was never in a hurry anymore. Scrubbing and rinsing and drying by hand had become a nightly routine that he enjoyed immensely. All part of his simple life he strove for.

There was a perfect view into the other cottage's kitchen window from his. He learned that lesson years earlier when he witnessed a great deal more of the current Minister for Magic than he ever cared to. Rodolphus could say one thing about Kingsley Shacklebolt. The man had no lack of confidence. Hermione was seated at her kitchen table eating the meal he'd delivered a few minutes earlier. The bottle of wine he charmed to Millie's back was open and already flowing. She seemed like a nice bottle of red would do her some good.

He was not sure what possessed him to share his meal with her. Certainly he had never done the same for any of Sada's past guests, especially not the Minister. Something about her struck him though. Maybe it was because it was so clearly obvious that even at a young age she knew real pain and sorrow. Thinking about how hard she cried into his neck made his throat tight and his heart clench. He could certainly relate.

Rodolphus allowed himself a last look at the young witch enjoying the meal he'd made across the way. His last dish was rinsed and dried. He turned away from the window one final time that night.

* * *

The first full morning of Hermione's forced vacation arrived much sooner than she expected. She stretched every muscle she could while still lying down in the decadent bed. Her sleep the night before had without any doubt been the best sleep she had experienced in years. She was relaxed and refreshed. A small part of her wondered if the meal she accepted from her secretive neighbor was laced with some kind of sleeping potion. The theory was quickly dismissed as ludicrous. Years had passed since the last time she failed to perform a precautionary diagnostic spell on her food.

She decided that it must simply be the peace and quiet of the area. And maybe the emotional upheaval of the day before. Maybe the entire bottle of wine she drank by herself. Whatever was responsible for the amazing night's sleep did not really matter. She pulled herself out of bed to prepare for an entire day of not knowing what to do with her time.

There was nothing but tea in the kitchen. Hermione knew that she could not rely on the mysterious man next door to continue to feed her. As she stood at the kitchen sink sipping her tea and mentally composing a shopping list, her gaze focused on the kitchen window of the other cottage. She wondered if the two cottages were mirror images of each other. They certainly appeared to be so based on the exteriors.

A figure crossed in front of the window she was staring into. She could not see a face due to the other cottage being too dark inside and the window too small. Intensely curious about the man, she kept watching his movements. She could tell that he was holding his puppy. When he carefully dropped his pet into the sink, Hermione realized she was looking at a bare chest. A very _nice_ bare chest. Her cheeks flushed. Despite feeling a bit embarrassed and awkward about observing the stranger without his knowledge, she continued watching him give his puppy a bath. After a few minutes of blatant staring, of trying not to imagine what that firm chest and defined stomach would feel like under her hands, she was startled when the man looked up from his task to catch her in the act. Hermione became quite flustered before rushing out of the kitchen. She needed a long shower, possibly even cold.

Once she was clean and free from her earlier embarrassment of being caught spying, Hermione dressed and decided to go for a walk down to the village. It was proving to be a chilly day. She bundled up with a decidedly Muggle-looking coat. When the cool temperature outside her haven struck her, she briefly considered just Apparating down to the village instead. Only the realization that she had no other plans for the day encouraged her to stick to a walk.

She was glad that she walked. The scenery was lovely. As she took her time slowly travelling down the path, she tried to imagine how much prettier the location would be in the spring and summer. Maybe if she enjoyed her first visit she would come back when the weather was warmer. After ten or fifteen minutes of walking, Hermione still had not gotten very far. A rustling noise behind her startled her enough to reach for her wand. The war had been over for seven years but her instincts hadn't received the owl yet. She was paranoid and on edge. Spinning around ready to curse a real or imagine foe, she snorted.

It was the neighbor's puppy happily running through the frozen grass. Hermione could hear shouts of "Millie!" and "Come here, Millie!" and "Damn it, Millie!" Despite the repeated shouts, the puppy named Millie continued to run in the opposite direction of her master's voice. Hermione laughed and cast a spell on the dog to keep it in a bubble barrier. The determined pooch harmlessly bounced off the sides of the bubble.

The reclusive Rod came running up to the two females only moments later. Hermione was surprised to see him. Sada told her she might not see him the entire time she was there. It did not take her long at all to notice that her neighbor was quite handsome. Wizarding genes could make it difficult to determine a person's actual age. If he had been a Muggle, she would've assumed he was in his late thirties or early forties. His dark brown hair was clipped short and sprinkled with just enough gray to give him what her mum used to call a 'distinguished' appearance. A light stubble covering his jaw lent him a casual air instead of appearing disheveled. His deep blue eyes showed a great deal of kindness in the man. He stood an inch or two over six feet tall. Something about his face seemed very familiar to Hermione, but she could not place him. Maybe they'd met before.

"Thank you," Rod said, his voice soft and quiet. "She's still learning commands. Apparently 'stay' is too advanced."

Hermione laughed. He removed her spell to pick up his puppy. Millie immediately began covering his face in slobbery dog kisses making her master laugh. It was a nice sound, Hermione decided.

"Can't stay mad at her for too long," he admitted.

"She's beautiful."

"Thank you."

"And the perfect wine delivery service too. Can't be too untrainable if she can do that."

Rod smiled shyly at her remark. Hermione thought him even more handsome when he smiled.

"She does very well if she has guidance from another dog. A human, however, she's less inclined to mind."

"Thank you for dinner last night. That was very kind."

Rod seemed embarrassed by her gratitude. His cheeks flushed a light pink and he dropped his eyes.

"You're welcome.'

"I will have to return the favor. I'm on a forced sabbatical for the next six weeks."

She extended her hand. He did not hesitate in grasping it in his much larger one.

"Hermione Weasley, err, Hermione Granger. Bugger! Just call me Hermione."

"And you can just call me Rod."

He squeezed it before dropping her hand. With a happily squirming Millie in his arms, he turned around to head back to his cottage. Hermione watched him for a few moments and then continued her walk to the village. It was only later that night that she realized she never asked for his last name.

* * *

Rodolphus was angry with himself. He held Millie close to his chest as he stormed back home. Why did he send the woman dinner last night? It was completely out of character. He certainly did not know why he stopped to talk with her on the path. Was he not considering how potentially dangerous his actions could prove to be?

If she knew who he really was, he would be sent right back to Azkaban to spend the rest of his miserable existence. Shacklebolt might have removed the dementors as guards but it still was not a location he cared to ever see again. Fourteen years was long enough, thank you.

He knew he could not see her again. Though it pained him for reasons he could not understand, he decided that he would make a better effort to avoid her. He finally had a good life after years of misery and torment. A simple life, just as he always wanted. Seeking out the Granger girl again was just asking for trouble.

* * *

The next two days of Hermione's mandatory vacation passed with her doing nothing much more than sleeping late, reading books with no intellectual value and taking long, relaxing bubble baths. Venturing back outside following her trip down to the village was impossible due to a heavy snowstorm that would not let up. She was surprised that she actually enjoyed being snowed in. Her shopping trip filled her cupboards and more importantly, her wine rack.

A roaring fireplace and a heavy throw blanket on the couch was all she really needed to feel comfortable. Several times throughout the two days she was stuck inside, Hermione caught herself staring out the kitchen window hoping for a glimpse of her neighbor. She was disappointed each time. Rod never was visible. Hermione was not sure what it was about the man, but something about him definitely intrigued her.

* * *

Following meeting Hermione on the path to the village, Rodolphus kept as low a profile as he could. It was easy to do with the mass amount of snow falling outside. He stayed inside with Millie doing what he could to keep from staring out his kitchen window.

Naturally he failed miserably. He found himself looking out his window a great deal. Even started to feel like a creepy old man. She was much too young for him and if she ever found out who he was or caught a glimpse of the faded mark on his left arm, she would run away in terror. Best to leave her alone. Assuming he could.


	3. Week One: Friday

_Author's Note: Thank you again for all of the amazing support I've received from this story! I can't believe how many of you seem to really enjoy it. Unfortunately, this story does not have an update schedule. It kind of just happens when it happens. It bothers me too, but my primary focus is on The Minister's Secret right now. I like to work on Simple Man when I need a break from TMS, especially considering that story is about to turn a bit dark._

* * *

Week One – Part Two

The unusually heavy winter storm was all but finished dumping inches of powdery snow on the ground by Friday morning. Hermione woke up a bit reluctantly. Spending the previous several days lounging around the cozy cottage had given her a taste of the indolent lifestyle she had never been able to understand before. And the bed! She was going to have to ask Sada Shafiq the next time she saw her where she got the heavenly mattress. Her new flat, as she refused to live another moment inside the home she had shared with her soon-to-be ex-husband, needed to have a comfortable new bed.

With no agenda or set time schedule, Hermione took her time getting ready for the day. Though she had certainly enjoyed the freedom that came with being stuck inside a cottage for two days while the weather outside was uncooperative, she was anxious to stretch her legs a bit. Too much idleness mixed with too much wine and she would find her clothing not fitting her by the end of her mandatory six week sojourn. Following a small breakfast of leftovers from the previous night's dinner, Hermione bundled herself up in warm clothes to head outside.

Every square inch of the country ground outside was covered in crisp, fresh snow. She forced herself to take several deep breaths of the clean, cool air. Too many years of her life had already been spent slogging away within the confines of a noisy, dirty city. It was perhaps time to make some major changes in her life, including setting aside a regular visit outside of London. Even being married into the extensive Weasley clan she had been able to avoid attending full gatherings of the family at The Burrow for a long time.

Her curious gaze raked over the cottage next door. All was quiet. Only the smoke curling out the chimney proved that there was anyone inside. She was even more intrigued by the mystery that was Rod Something-Or-Other. What was his story? Why was he content to live alone in the middle of the frozen countryside with only two dogs for companions? Hermione decided that he must have had some great love affair with his late wife. Perhaps theirs was a love that only came around once in a person's life. It would make sense why he did not seem eager to move on with another witch's affections. She sighed deeply at the thought. It seemed unlikely that she would ever understand what love like that was truly about. Certainly she and Ron never had it.

Behind the cottages was a well-worn path. Hermione knew the lake was nearby, but had yet to see it. As she had no other plans for the day and a long walk was just what she needed, she started moving. It was a peaceful area much like the long walk to the village from a few days earlier. The only sounds she heard were the few birds still brave enough to spend the winter in the area and the crunching of snow beneath her heavy boots. She could not have gone more than fifty meters from the cottage when the sound of a sharp bark behind her caught her attention.

Hermione spun around and laughed. Rod's large Saint Bernard was coming towards her on his massive paws. He seemed comfortable running in the snow which made sense. His breed had been used to rescue stranded travelers in the snowy Alps for centuries. All he needed was a small barrel of brandy around his neck to be an even more welcome sight. Hermione stopped walking to wait for the sweet dog to catch up. When he was close enough, she smiled at him and began to scratch him behind the ears in the spot she knew he loved. His quiet little whimper of gratitude warmed her heart.

"Where's your master, sweet boy?"

The dog wagged his tail and 'woofed'. Hermione could not help but laugh at his reaction. She scratched him again. Though she had never really _hated_ dogs, she certainly had never loved one before. Something about this Saint Bernard made her heart feel warm and open. It also did not hurt that he was bloody adorable.

"Okay, you can come with me."

The witch and the exuberant dog walked further down the path. Rod's dog, whatever his name was, stuck close to her side the entire journey. Once again she was surprised by how much she liked the dog. He was very sweet and very fluffy. Their trek brought them to the edge of a large, silent lake. A few boats were moored there, giving a small glimpse into what the area must be like when the weather was warm enough to actually enjoy being out on the water. There seemed to be a very good reason why Sada had few guests that time of year. It was entirely too cold for much activity.

A couple of chairs near the water's edge caught Hermione's eye. She stalked over to them, knowing without even needing to check that the dog was right behind her. Waving her wand to clear the snow off of the chair, she settled into the seat. She took a deep, calming breath as she stared out over the still water. The dog sat directly on top of her feet. Initially she was ready to order him to move, but the warmth seeping through her feet and legs from his fur prevented her from making him sit somewhere else. She began to absentmindedly pet and scratch the dog's head. It was a soothing activity that helped her feel even calmer. The massive dog carefully leaned back into her legs for even more additional support she appreciated.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it? Maybe Kingsley was right. Maybe I did need a vacation from my life."

Silence fell over the area for several long minutes. Hermione just stared at the water finding it to be soothing and calming. For the first time in years she did not feel like she needed to be doing anything. It was a very freeing experience. Certainly one she could imagine getting used to.

"I'm not very happy."

She did not know what prompted her to make such a bold declaration to the dog who could not speak back to her, but once it was out she did not regret it. The dog whined. He rotated slightly on her feet to be able to lay his head in her lap. Hermione valued the manner in which the dog seemed to be able to give his own support. Words were not needed. Her lips quirked up into a bright smile. She leaned forward enough to be able to kiss the top of the dog's head.

"Probably haven't really been happy in years. Since before the war even."

Before she really understood what she was doing, she was pouring out her heart to the creature. There were so many feelings and emotions that she had been bottling up inside of her for years that just spilled out. Confiding to someone she knew could not use the information against her or be able to repeat her words only encouraged her to keep speaking.

She spoke about the pain she experienced when the war was over and she was able to find her parents again. Kingsley had been a huge support in providing all of the necessary resources available to aid her parents. He was not the only member of the Order of the Phoenix who felt a tremendous amount of guilt knowing that they had not done anything to keep her parents, who were obvious targets, safe and protected. Her inexperience with memory charms meant they would be unable to remember their lives before they moved to Australia. It had been the single worst moment of her life when Professor Flitwick and one of the most respected Healers from St. Mungo's declared there was nothing that could be done to return them to what they had been before.

Hermione described her marriage. How she had clung to Ron because he was there. Both of them had been in such dire pain after the war ended that they used each other for their strength. It had been nice in the beginning to feel like she had his unconditional love and support. She was able to convince herself that she was happy with her marriage and her job even though they both felt soul-sucking. There had been no real fulfillment to find. The dog simply leaned slightly into her more with each upsetting revelation.

"I've always felt guilty admitting that I was unhappy. So many others died when I lived. I felt like I owed it to them to at least pretend to be happy. I suppose by comparison with a brutal death at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, being a bit blue is ridiculous. What right do I have to be sad when I survived?"

She did not like where the conversation was headed. Though she could appreciate the venting and the slight lessening of the heaviness that always seemed to fall on her shoulders since as long as she could remember, it did not do to always dwell on the negative. Deciding that she would do what was necessary to stop being melancholy, Hermione resumed the furious scratches behind the dog's ears. His wagging tail brightened her spirits and made her laughter echo across the empty lake.

"Your master's rather fit, isn't he?"

At her confession, the dog lifted his head abruptly to stare at Hermione. She could almost imagine what the canine was thinking. It only made her laugh harder.

"Can I trust you to keep that a secret for me?"

The dog continued to stare at her for a couple more seconds before laying his giant head back in her lap. Hermione's hands immediately began smoothing down his fur. The renewed wagging of his tail proved the animal found the attention soothing.

"He's the first person I've met in a very long time who was kind to me just for the sake of kindness. Usually people only want something from me. War hero, Golden Trio and all that rubbish. He seemed almost embarrassed that he sent over dinner."

Peace fell over the area again with their renewed silence. She did not know what else to say. Simply having another creature, even if it was a dog, sit with her made her feel like she was not all alone once again in a world that was too big for her. A slight breeze blew over the area, reminding Hermione that she should renew her warming charms. With her wand outstretched to cast, she chuckled.

"Maybe I should get a dog. I get the feeling you would do a good job of keeping my cold, empty bed warm."

His head jerked up out of her lap the moment the words fell out of her mouth. The expression on his furry face only made Hermione laugh again. Who knew that animals could furrow their brows and make their feelings known with only a twitch of their features? He stared at the still laughing witch for only a moment or two before taking off running towards the cottages. She called after him several times with no luck. The animal disappeared down the path.

* * *

Rodolphus wondered if there would ever come a time when he would _stop_ being angry with himself. She had not even been there for a week and he had already made a fool of himself multiple times. As soon as he was far enough away from Hermione that he did not have to worry about her witnessing his magic, he transformed back into his human form. He was furious that he actually allowed himself to follow her down to the lake. What was he thinking?

He had been standing at the damned kitchen window _again_ when she emerged from her cottage wrapped in a heavy scarf with a ridiculous knitted hat with an oversized bobble on the top. His eyes followed every movement she made, including the way her eyes sought out his cottage. A hasty step or two backwards prevented the witch from being able to tell that once again he was staring at her from his kitchen sink. When he realized she was heading towards the lake he instantly transformed.

Even approaching her in his animagus form, he was playing a dangerous game. And he had actually laid his head in her lap? He was a disgusting old man. Mentioning him being in her bed had been too much for him. More than once he had already fantasized enough about being there and it certainly wasn't when he was a dog.

"Come back!"

Realizing the voice he had been listening to for almost an hour was only steps behind him, Rodolphus spun around. Hermione's cheeks were rosy from the cold and the burst of exercise running after the dog. Her hat was crooked, no doubt weighed down by the absurd bobble. He wanted to kiss her. All at once he began to shake his head in an effort to get the desperate thoughts out of his head.

"Oh, Rod, I'm sorry. I was just looking for your dog. We were having a lovely visit down by the water and he just took off running. He was doing a wonderful job of keeping my feet warm."

Her laughter made him smile. It was obvious that she babbled when she was nervous. Rodolphus wondered if kissing her would make her stop. Instantly he felt embarrassed by his traitorous thoughts. What would she think of him if she could read his mind? He hoped desperately she wasn't a talented Legilimens. Or even an untalented Legilimens. Surely he was being entirely too obvious. The sudden warmth in his chilled cheeks proved that he was not being as smooth and unruffled as he hoped he was. Hermione smiled again, only exacerbating the problem with his disloyal facial expressions.

"You must think me mad. Having a chinwag with a dog."

"If that makes one mad, then I may be the most insane person you have ever met."

She smiled wider at his response.

"Sympathetic ear on the big one. He let me drone on and on. What's his name?"

It was an innocuous question that should not have caused Rodolphus to panic. No one had ever asked what his dog's name was before. Obviously they had never been in the same room at the same time. Madam Rosmerta used to call him 'Fluffy-Arse' because she did not want to get attached. His presence in her pub was always supposed to be temporary. Fluffy-Arse was certainly undignified. Even when she shorted it to either 'Fluffy' or simply 'Arse' they were no better. Fearing that he was making a complete fool of himself by just staring at the young woman with his mouth half-open, Rodolphus tried to think up a name quickly. It was much harder than he thought it would be.

He had grown up surrounded by dozens of dogs. His grandfather raised them for the illegal sport of Muggle hunting. How could he not remember _any_ of their names? He worried that she was getting suspicious. Only a few seconds had passed though it felt like much longer. What was the one that his grandfather hated because he was too gentle and would rather lick the Muggles instead of chasing them? _Ollie… Oliver… Oscar…_

"Orville."

Immediately Rodolphus wanted to swallow his own tongue. He could not have picked a more common name for a dog? It was an absurd name that his grandfather bestowed upon the poor dog that was eventually disposed of for not following his orders. There were some sadistic bastards on his family tree that he was most certainly not proud of. With his younger brother in prison for the rest of his natural life, he was the only hope for the continuance of the Lestrange line. He was in no hurry at all to fulfill his duty as pater familias. If their line ended with him, the world would likely only be better.

"Not a name you hear every day," she replied. "I like it."

Her bright smile made him relax slightly. Not completely, of course. Rodolphus could not imagine there would ever be a time when he could be at ease in her presence. She made him nervous in a manner that was not entirely unpleasant. Certainly it was a feeling he had not had the opportunity to experience in many, many years. Though he was still uneasy around the young woman, he was not exactly in any hurry to leave.

"Am I keeping you from somewhere? You seemed in a hurry when I caught up to you."

He did not know how to answer her question. Several awkward seconds passed before he blurted out an excuse.

"I was looking for the dog, but he ran ahead of me. I was just turning back around to follow him when you arrived. You weren't keeping me from anywhere."

Her bright smile made his stomach clench slightly. She likely did not even understand the effect such a gesture had on a dirty old man like him. How much older than her was he anyway? He did not even want to contemplate the math required, but hoped by doing so it might discourage him from following in the direction his trousers seemed to be leading him in. By the time he reached thirty years and he knew there were still more to go, he stopped counting. No sense in depressing himself even further than he already was.

"Do you mind if I walk back with you?" she asked. "Without Orville to keep my feet warm, I'm afraid I need to go inside. Too bloody cold!"

"Certainly."

If he had had more confidence and knew more about the inner workings of the female mind, Rodolphus might have assumed that Hermione was every bit as nervous to be alone with him as he was. She kept up an almost constant chatter as they travelled up the path towards their cottages. He was able to interject a word or two when she asked a particular question about the area they were in, but for the most part, she simply talked about the weather and inquired whether or not he had had enough firewood during the winter storm they had just come out of. Her cheeks were gradually flushing more and more the longer she talked. He tried to brush it off as just the chill in the air. Somehow he could not bring himself to believe that _he_ was responsible for the adorable blushing in her features.

"When I was a child, my parents and I would take lovely weekend trips all around the country exploring new places. I'm sure the last time I was anywhere near here was when I was a tiny, young girl."

He bit his tongue to prevent blurting out that she was _still_ a tiny, young girl. Her jumper might have been filled out quite nicely every time he spied her through her kitchen window, but that did not mean she was an old woman. As long as the world was kind to her, she had at _least_ one hundred more years left to live. Wizarding genes were a great benefit to those not foolish enough to get caught up in a violent war. A disturbing thought of spending over a hundred years married to the woman his Trixie became made him shudder involuntarily.

"It is getting a bit colder, isn't it?" Hermione asked, completely misinterpreting his gesture.

"Yes, I think it is," he agreed.

His thoughts drifted to his late wife while the witch by his side continued to give him a thoroughly detailed weather forecast for the next week. The longer removed from his wife he became, the easier it was to forget the horrible times they shared. Often his mind would drift to those all-too-rare moments when they used to laugh until they cried. Bellatrix could be wickedly funny when she tried. Unfortunately, the longer they spent in the Dark Lord's service and then after the fourteen years they spent in Azkaban, the less she was like the teenaged girl he fell in love with when he was eighteen. By the time he was faking his own death to disappear from the side of the woman he'd vowed to love for the entirety of their lives, he no longer recognized her as the girl who used to pick wildflowers to weave into her thick curls on those afternoons they snuck away from their parents to make love on the shores of the pond on his family's estate.

Trixie died years before Bellatrix was cut down in a duel by Molly Weasley. Rodolphus could not pinpoint the exact moment she was gone from him forever, but it did not matter. The longer Bellatrix was dead, the easier it was to remember those carefree days before either one of them was seduced by the pretty words of a madman. Easier to remember the days they talked of children running through the halls of his massive ancestral home. Easier to remember the way they clung to each other when their hearts broke with the loss of their babies and with them, their hopes for a better future. By the time an altered Tom Riddle entered their world to convince them a better society was just within their grasp, his Trixie was almost completely gone.

"Are you all right?"

Hermione's concerned query broke him out of his increasingly depressing reverie. She had stopped walking and was staring at him with a fretful countenance. He attempted a half-smile to put her fears at ease.

"I apologize. My mind wandered there for a bit."

Rodolphus could not be sure if his response was enough to pacify the woman's concerns or not, but moments later they continued walking towards the cottages. The shrill barks from Millie sitting in the window behind his bed startled them both. His mind was still wandering and Hermione was not expecting the sound. Only moments later they were both laughing at the exuberant puppy wagging her tail in the window and jumping on the glass.

"Looks like we have a discipline issue," Rodolphus declared with a chuckle. "She knows she is not supposed to jump on the bed."

"Aww, you don't let them in the bed with you?"

"No. The bed is no place for dogs. They have their own pillows on the floor."

He kept silent on the fact that the reason he instituted the rule of no dogs in the bed was because he still held out hope that one day there might be a woman who would want to crawl in bed with him instead. There seemed no sense in announcing to the girl that he had gone longer than he cared to remember without feeling the warmth of another human being next to him in his large bed.

"I'm sure that is a great disappointment to them," Hermione stated. "I think I would enjoy having a big, fluffy, warm dog in bed with me."

Rodolphus cleared his throat, determined not to return to his earlier thoughts when he was in his canine form. He walked her to her front door before rushing over to his own cottage to deal with the puppy that had obviously just learned how to climb up onto his bed.

Later that evening following an uneventful day, Rodolphus stood in his kitchen peeling potatoes. He had had a craving for his favorite house-elf's shepherd's pie for days. A quick trip down to the village was all it took to get the necessary ingredients. Because he was standing at his sink, it was all too easy for his eyes to wander to the other cottage. Hermione was rushing around the smoke-filled room with a frantic expression on her harried face. A smirk twitched up on his face at the thought that she was clearly a terrible cook, but absolutely adorable when she was trying. That is until her offer from earlier in the week to return the favor of a home cooked meal popped back into his mind. Part of him was a bit worried about what he would have to choke down and pretend to savor if she was as awful as he assumed she was.

He was startled a short time later when he was browning meat in a skillet by a loud knock on his door. Millie, convinced she was something of an intimidating guard dog, began to bark at the sound. Rodolphus wiped his hands on a towel before crossing the small space to the front door. His assumption as to who he might find on the other side of the door was answered when he saw Hermione standing on his doormat holding a bottle of wine.

"I tried to make you biscuits to thank you for dinner the other night, but I have apparently forgotten how to bake. How about some wine instead?"


	4. Week One: Still Friday

Week One – Part Three

The moment she saw the look of what she assumed must have been sheer panic in Rod's eyes, Hermione felt like she was making a huge mistake. She did not know why she was standing in his doorway holding a bottle of wine. Suddenly it seemed so inappropriate. The only reasoning she could think of to explain why she walked through the snow from her cottage to his was simply that she was missing the company of other human beings. Between life as a Weasley and working in the Ministry of Magic, she rarely spent any amount of time alone. She spent a good part of the afternoon after their meeting near the lake trying to decide how she could invite herself next door.

"Thank you, Hermione."

Rod reached across the threshold of the door to grab the bottle of wine. Every movement he made seemed to shout out that he was unnerved by her presence. Hermione immediately regretted coming over. It was rude and very presumptuous.

"Would you like a glass?" he asked.

Hermione worried that he was only trying to be friendly, but in that moment, she really did not care. She gladly accepted with a bright smile on her freezing cheeks. Rod stepped aside to allow her to enter his home. Only two steps inside the cozy cottage, an excited Millie ran to greet her. The happy puppy jumped up on the guest in her exuberance. Rod firmly, but yet still softly scolded her for the unacceptable behavior. Hermione could not help but think he was very adorable. Scents of the meal cooking in the kitchen wafted over towards them. It was a small cottage after all.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized, regretting yet again her rash decision to crash her next door neighbor's quiet evening alone. "I should've known you were in the middle of dinner. I should go back home."

"Have you eaten?"

"No, but I'm not really hungry."

"I never know how to cook for one person. If you don't eat, I'll be forced to eat leftovers for days."

Hermione could not decide if Rod wanted her to leave or if he was being sincere in his invitation. Part of her suspected it was likely a combination of both. Clearly he wasn't used to playing host to strangers barging into his house. Sada said he was a recluse. One didn't become that way by being overly social with the neighborhood.

Possibly the loudest stomach growl Hermione had ever heard filled the near silence of the room. Instantly mortified that such a sound could come out of her own body, she felt her eyes widen and her cheeks flush. Rod turned his head in her direction to smirk. Her attempt to lie about not being hungry had been a failure thanks to her traitorous bodily functions.

"Would you like some crackers before dinner is ready?" he teased.

"No, thank you. Do you mind terribly if we forget that just happened?"

Rod smiled and turned back to the cooker. In an effort to distract her mortified brain, Hermione scanned the small kitchen for wine glasses. Once she located a couple by the sink, she performed a quiet spell to uncork the bottle. She filled both glasses with a liberal amount of the deep red wine. They both seemed like they could use a little liquid courage to continue their evening together. When she handed Rod his own glass, the tips of his fingers brushed against hers. The unexpected contact surprised them both. Rod only narrowly saved the glass from tumbling to the floor.

Hermione knew she couldn't blame the heat wafting off of the cooker for the flame in her cheeks. What was her problem around this man anyway? Something about him unnerved her in a delightfully pleasant manner. It had been a long time since she could honestly say the same thing about another person. She leaned against the counter to watch his movements. If her eyes occasionally drifted from the skillet to the long, lean muscles she could see underneath his jumper, well, who could blame a girl for looking? He was an attractive man. Likely he was used to the scrutiny from undersexed females in his proximity.

"I've always been impressed by a man who can cook," she stated.

Rod glanced up from the skillet to smile shyly at her again. She did not know what possessed her to make such a remark. What if the man thought she was flirting with him? It would be inappropriate since she was still technically a married… Hermione shook her head to dispel all further thoughts of her crumbling marriage from her head. Yes, she might _technically_ still be married to Ronald, but had they not both just simply been going through the motions for the past several years?

"I had to learn how to cook or I'd starve," he replied with a soft chuckle. "My family's last house elf passed away many years ago."

Hermione had been in the process of taking a sip of wine when he mentioned his house elf. She was startled enough by the announcement that she almost choked. Rod did not strike her as the kind of wizard who came from a fancy manor with house elves. Usually only Purebloods owned elves. More than once over the past few days she witnessed her next door neighbor wash his dishes by hand. She knew it was wrong to spy on him, but she was curious. Watching him not use magic to perform basic household tasks made Hermione assume he was either a Muggleborn like her or at minimum a Half-blood. Sometimes Harry would start washing dishes by hand without even thinking about it until Ginny would remind him he was a wizard.

"Your family owned house-elves?" She tried to make her voice seem as calm and neutral as possible. Though she absolutely still cared about the rights and protections of their elvish friends, she was far removed from her SPEW days. The last thing she wanted was for the handsome man cooking dinner to think she was nothing but a nutter.

Rod cleared his throat before answering. Over the years Hermione had become a good judge of people's body language and non-verbal communication. Her host was obviously not comfortable speaking about his past. She wondered why. Just what made him so reluctant? Did he have terrible secrets? Most wizards his age were not content to live hidden away in a tiny cottage alone with just a couple of dogs. Her inquisitive nature was beginning to get the better of her. She wanted to know everything, but certainly did not want to insult the man or scare him off. It would be a long forced vacation if she had no one to talk to.

"Yes, my family did," he stated. "Not many were still alive when my father passed. Seemed silly to request more from the Ministry for just me. Rosie was the last one. She died towards the end of the last war."

Hermione offered her sincere condolences. Rod granted her a half-smile and then took a large gulp of wine from his glass. Instantly she felt guilty. It was really none of her business.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you are cooking like a Muggle."

Rod turned around slightly to raise a single eyebrow in her direction. She could feel her cheeks heat up even further than they already were. Damn her complexion and her overly expressive face! Knowing that he was waiting for her to continue, Hermione could not stop the veritable verbal vomit that spilled out of her mouth.

"I just assumed that you were a Muggleborn or a Half-blood who was very comfortable with his Muggle side. Every Pureblood I've ever met would jump straight to magic without even wondering if there was something simple they could do without magic. But honestly, with the exception of my best friend Harry Potter who inherited his house elf from his Pureblood godfather, I've never heard of anyone but the richest of the Purebloods even owning the poor creatures. I hate the term 'own' but over the years I've learned more about them and how they don't actually _mind_ being owned and it's only been the one elf that I've known who really wanted to be free. He was special, but not exactly a good example of common behavior. Excellent house elf really though. He saved my life during the war at the loss of his own. Poor Harry was inconsolable…"

The wizard was across the tiny expanse of the kitchen in just two strides of his long legs. She might have continued to babble on until she completely ran out of air and passed out in shame and humiliation on his kitchen floor if it wasn't for his hand reaching up to lightly cup her cheek. His touch startled her into silence. There were equal parts concern and amusement dancing in his blue eyes. Hermione hoped that he did not find her blathering to be entertaining. She was always very embarrassed when she got nervous and could not stop speaking. Satisfied that she was calmer, Rod removed his hand from her face. Hermione missed the contact instantly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Rod smirked before turning back to dinner. The excitable puppy started to rub herself against Hermione's legs demanding proper attention. Thankful for a distraction, the witch kneeled down on the hard floor to scratch and cuddle Millie. A surprisingly comfortable silence fell over the trio. Hermione was unused to silences that weren't awkward. Years as an honorary and then official member of the massive Weasley family meant there were few opportunities for stillness. She caught Rod watching the two of them play on the floor several times. Now she felt like the one under his scrutiny.

"Do you have any pets?" he asked.

"Not anymore. I used to have a half-kneazle, but he got lost during the war. No one knows what happened to him. I'd like to think he found a new home to be happy in. Haven't had the heart to get another animal since."

Crookshanks would always be something of a sore subject with Hermione. Though he would never come right out and declare it publicly, she knew that Ron had not been disappointed in the slightest that her familiar was lost in the chaos of Bill and Fleur's wedding. She missed the animal dreadfully. A part of her always felt immense guilt whenever she was interacting with another.

"I understand," Rod replied. "There were many years I didn't have a pet of any kind. Lonely years."

Hermione discerned a hint of sadness in the man's tone. She hated it. Though she hardly knew the man at all, she did not want him to feel the same sorrow she often felt when her mind would drift back to Crooks. It was a feeling that she would not wish on her worst enemy. Her mind began to wander when the silence resumed. There were several questions she wanted to ask the man, but most of them seemed impertinent or inappropriate. She did wonder, however, if her curiosity was fueled by an actual desire to know or because she was bored and lonely in her own cottage?

"Once I got my first dog I knew I didn't want to go through life _not_ having another animal again."

She could see the sense in his statement. Spending time with Orville lifted her spirit immensely that afternoon. Realizing she had not seen a hint of the large animal, she scanned the rest of the cottage that was visible for a sign of his presence.

"Where is Orville?"

Rod cleared his throat again at the question. His eyes sought her out without him even moving his head. The hesitation to answer the question coupled with the rising pink in his cheeks made Hermione wonder what she had said wrong.

"He's outside. Likes to roam."

"Is it not too cold out there for him?"

"He's fine. Heavy coat."

"Of course."

Hermione was not sure why she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She also wasn't sure why she was making him feel ill at ease in his own home, but she hated it. Perhaps shoving her way into his solitude was not the best decision. Millie continued to crawl in her lap and beg for attention while Rod busied himself with their meal. She scratched the dog and watched the strange man's movements. Once he was satisfied with all of the ingredients in his skillet, he placed a lid on top to allow the mixture to simmer. The pot of potatoes boiling on the stove was carefully removed with a ratty pair of oven gloves protecting his hands instead of the levitating spell she expected. Rod drained the potatoes into the sink to being mashing them.

"It all smells wonderful," she announced.

"Thank you."

He seemed shy of any amount of praise. Was he just not used to it because he lived alone for so long or had he never really been exposed to people who complimented him? Hermione quietly sighed. She was going to need to start reading more books for pleasure on her sabbatical or her curiosity would drive her mad. Rod transferred the drained potatoes into another bowl to begin mashing. Noticing that both of their glasses were quite low, Hermione carefully rose back to her feet. She carried the bottle over to Rod, accidentally brushing her arm against his chest as she attempted to refill his glass. He almost knocked over the bowl of potatoes back into the sink to her amusement. His clear discomfort with her was more amusing than insulting. Just when she thought the wizard could not get any more adorable, she noticed the tips of his ears were bright red. Hermione covered her giggle with her glass to drink the last of the liquid remaining. Rod gripped his own glass tightly in his hand and took a deep swallow.

"So Mr. Fancy Pureblood with house elves," she teased, pouring the wine into her empty glass. "You never did tell me your last name."

The sound of shattering glass and a hiss from the man was all she heard in response. Hermione set the bottle and glass down on the counter. Rod's hand was covered in blood. Pieces of the broken glass seemed to be stuck in the wound. She reached for his injured hand without waiting for permission. He seemed reluctant to allow her to clean the blood and glass off of his skin, but did not resist as she used her wand to vanish the tiniest fragments.

"Do you have any dittany? It will heal much faster that way."

Rod pulled his hand back. He excused himself from the room with an embarrassed mutter. In his absence Hermione took over the task of mashing the potatoes for the top of the shepherd's pie. She'd witnessed her mother-in-law make the dish enough times over the years to know exactly what he was making. Several minutes passed before he returned to the kitchen. The poor wizard did not seem to want to make eye contact with his guest. Hermione thought his mortification was just one more thing that made the man adorable. She relinquished control of the potatoes without hesitation.

"Would you like me to pour you another glass?"

His short nod was the only answer she was likely going to receive. Hermione found another glass near the sink to fill with more wine. The lost wine in the broken glass notwithstanding they were going to be at the end of the bottle she brought before much more time passed. She considered bringing more than one bottle, but did not want to seem presumptuous. It was bad enough that she barged into his cottage to begin with. Multiple bottles of wine would have been too much.

She sipped at her glass as she watched the frazzled man move around the small kitchen. He removed a glass dish from the cupboard to assemble the meal. Somehow Hermione managed to keep all of her questions and comments to herself while she watched. As soon as the shepherd's pie was safely in the oven, the tension in the kitchen returned. Neither of the occupants seemed to know what to say to the other. Rod finally gestured to the living room with a silent motion of his hand.

Millie almost tripped Hermione in her excitement to follow them. The puppy ran straight for the comfortable looking sofa to jump up on it in one try. Her tail wagged furiously as she stared at Hermione, begging her with her wide eyes to join her. Not wishing to disappoint the fluffy creature, she sat down on the middle cushion to resume her scratches. Rod settled down in his armchair. A small smile crossed his face at the two of them.

"Is your hand all right?"

"Yes, it was just a moment of inattention, I'm afraid. The dittany worked very well."

"Good. I knew it would. Unfortunately I have quite a bit of experience using it."

She wished as soon as the words came out of her mouth that she had not said them. There was no reason to bring up the horrors of her past with a man she hardly knew. The war had been over for several years. Very few in their country were left unaffected by that tense time. Many, like Hermione, tried to put it out of their minds the best they could by trying to move forward and keep busy with grandiose plans for bettering the future of their society. She often thought, naively of course, that she could actually make a difference in the corruptible Ministry. Nightmares were firmly in her past. She could not remember the last time she had a dream that she was lying on the floor of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor awaiting torture. Why she let even a hint of her past experiences slip out surprised her.

"How long will you be staying?" asked Rod. She appreciated him deftly moving past her confession.

"I suppose five more weeks. I'm not allowed to return to work until the six weeks of my forced vacation are over."

"'Forced vacation'?"

Hermione took a large swallow of her wine. How much of the story should she come right out and admit to? She did not blame Kingsley for making her leave the Ministry. Her actions the day she walked in on Ron were completely inappropriate. More than once in the week since she recalled the events that transpired and immediately wanted to hide her head back under her covers in shame. She hoped that the time away from work would be enough to aid her in getting over the humiliation.

"It had been a long time since I took a vacation," she explained. It wasn't exactly a lie, just not the complete truth. "Kingsley, err, the Minister, decided it would be best if I took some time off. Work has been stressful lately. I think he was afraid I haven't been taking care of myself."

"I hope you can find the rest you need here."

Their conversation turned to interesting places for her to visit while she was in the area. Rod had a lot of knowledge of the nearest villages and most scenic walks. She was glad to have more information about her temporary home. Remaining in the cottage could get tiresome if she had to do it for the entire length of her stay.

Conversation over dinner was pleasant and light as well. He never asked her anything else about her forced vacation and she did not ask him any of the dozens of impertinent questions that seemed to reside permanently on the top of her tongue. She complimented him on his cooking. It was really quite good. She had grown used to cold takeaway eaten over the sink and soggy sandwiches from the Ministry canteen. Only at the dreaded Weasley Sunday dinners could she expect an actual warm meal. Her lack of desire to spend hours in her kitchen every day was yet another black mark against her in her husband's eyes.

"I'm sad that I didn't get to see Orville," Hermione declared as she walked to the front door to put her coat back on. Once dinner was over she felt guilty monopolizing any more of Rod's private time. "Would you give him some scratches behind the ear for me when he returns home?"

Rod's sharp bark of a laugh made Hermione smile. Like the proper gentleman she was certain he was raised to be, he assisted her in pulling her coat on. She almost didn't see the need. Her cottage was just a short walk away. She would hardly have time to get cold by the time she reached her front door.

"I will be glad to," Rod answered.

"Thank you for dinner. I apologize again for just inviting myself over. It was rather rude of me."

He smiled again, but did not respond. Hermione knew he was too polite to tell her that she was absolutely right about her actions being rude. Somehow though she could not find enough energy to care. She had had a wonderful time. Honestly, she was already trying to think of a scheme that would allow her to drop by again.

"Have a good night, Hermione."

She stepped out into the snow feeling happier than she had been since before that horrible day at the Ministry.

* * *

Rodolphus watched the young witch walk back to her cottage from the doorway of his own home. Every step she took in the opposite direction only made him want to call out to her to have her return. No, he had not been expecting to spend the majority of the evening with the woman, but he was glad that he did. Only the incident with breaking the wine glass in his hand marred the experience. He had simply been unsure how to answer her question about his last name. Breaking the glass was unintentional. However, he could not deny that it served as an adequate distraction at the right time. She had not asked him his surname again. Of course he knew it would only be a matter of time before the question came up again.

Once her front door was opened and closed behind her, Rodolphus returned to the warmth of his own cottage. Somehow it felt empty with just Millie there with him. Normally he did not notice, but an evening spent with the vivacious young witch was just the reminder he did not need that he was a lonely, old man.

Sleep was difficult that night. His mind would not rest no matter how exhausted his body might be. Knowing that he would not be able to fall asleep without doing something drastic, Rodolphus rose from his bed and crossed his small cottage to his front door. He transformed into his animagus form before opening the door. A late night run through the area was usually all he required to calm himself down.

Though his thoughts in his animagus form tended to be much simpler than when he was human, he still could not get the woman out of his mind. He was playing a dangerous game. Any moment he could make a wrong move and be chucked back into Azkaban. Was it all worth it for just a few short minutes of female companionship? Needing to clear his mind, he allowed his canine form to take over. He ran through the snow allowing his nose to lead.

He never could tell time properly as a dog. All he knew was the moon was high in the sky and he was exhausted. Rodolphus turned back around to go home. His gaze landed on the witch's cottage long before he made it to his own. A light was still on in the living room. He was scratching at her front door before he even realized what he was doing. She opened her door within moments with a bright smile.

"Isn't it a little late for visiting?"

Rodolphus pushed past her legs to let himself into the cottage. Hermione's laugh made even his canine heart clench. She closed the door and walked over to where he was sitting. Furious scratches behind his ears in just the place he liked made him whimper to her great amusement.

"I was just about to go to bed," Hermione announced. "Shouldn't you be going home?"

Rodolphus ignored her question once she mentioned going to bed. He headed straight for her bedroom. His paws were off the ground and on top of the soft mattress before his human mind could tell him to stop. Hadn't she mentioned just hours earlier that she would love to have a big, fluffy, warm dog in bed with her? Hermione only laughed when she found him. Part of him expected her to kick him out and send him back to his cottage. When she turned off the lamp and slipped under the covers next to him, he sighed and snuggled up against her.

He was already damned. May as well enjoy what little happiness he could find until his world came tumbling down around him.


	5. Week Two: Saturday - Wednesday

Week Two – Part One

She was in no hurry to wake up or get out of the comfort of her warm bed. Sleep had always been something she never got enough of. Massive chunks in her life had been spent existing on only a few hours of restless sleep each night. There always seemed to be something in her life going on that was more important than being well-rested. OWLs and Voldemort, for example. It had been a difficult habit to break as an adult, especially after she no longer cared much for sharing a bed with her husband.

Perhaps Kingsley had been wise to force her to stay in his cousin's cottage, as much as she hated to admit it. Almost an entire week passed of her suspension and she felt physically better than she had in a very long time. Emotionally was a completely different story. Hiding away in the quaint cottage was only delaying the inevitable. There would be a major backlash once she returned to civilization. The part of her that craved and needed to be in control struggled with not having access to post or newspapers. She wanted to know what happened immediately after her very public breakdown. There was no way Marietta Edgecombe didn't run straight to Rita Skeeter with dangling promises of an exclusive interview. Both of those witches had had it out for her for years. They were probably new best friends by then.

Facing Ron again would not be easy. That was a reunion she was not looking forward to in the slightest. She had been thinking about him a lot during her forced sojourn. The snowstorm prevented her from doing much of anything else. Once upon a time they had been in love. And happy. Even their recent marital problems could not take that away from her. Maybe their relationship moved too quickly after the war ended, but they had been young and in love. There was such a relief that they'd survived and a mentality that they needed to grab happiness with both hands. Too many of their loved ones sacrificed their lives so they might have a chance to exist in a peaceful world. They felt they owed them that at least.

Hermione did not know what she would say to Ron when the day came when she could no longer remain hidden. Deep down she still loved him, would _always_ love him. But somehow, it was no longer enough. It hadn't been enough. Those foolish people who claimed that love was all one needed were tragically wrong. Love might get you in the door, but it couldn't make you stay. They had been too different in many ways, too similar in others. She would have been content to hide away forever in her office on Level Two of the Ministry of Magic trying to ignore that they weren't working. Ron tried in the beginning. Maybe he hadn't tried enough. Or maybe she didn't try enough. Maybe it was neither of them.

She rolled over onto her back and sighed. There was a time and a place for deep, serious thinking and it was not before breakfast. Not when she was comfortable and content for at least the moment. She couldn't remember the last time she felt that way.

A snuffling sound next to her made her giggle. She'd almost forgotten that she had a stowaway in bed with her. Orville was happily snoring quietly away next to her without a care in his fuzzy, giant head. Hermione resolved that she should try to live her life as much like Orville did as possible. He probably didn't spend hours a day worrying about minutiae that in the grand scheme of things meant absolutely nothing. No, he was happy to roam around the countryside sniffing out flowers and dirt. She wondered if it was even possible for a dog to have a serious thought. _Must be so nice and relaxing_ , she thought. To never have to worry what everyone thought of you. To be happy with the simple aspects of life and not feel the need to seek out more or fight for the injustice of people and creatures that didn't even seem to care if she existed.

She turned on her side to examine the dog more closely. His head was rested on her spare pillow just as if he was a human. Even in sleep he didn't seem like a normal dog. Maybe he was one of those creatures who believed they were a different species than they actually were. Certainly the expressive looks his furry face had when she spoke to him like an equal weren't the ordinary expressions of a dog. He was special. Chuckling at the absurdity of his human characteristics, Hermione snuggled up behind the immense canine. When she spooned up behind him and slung an arm over his torso, the dog stirred slightly. She felt him tense for half a second before settling back into a contented, furry heap.

"You're the best bedmate I think I've ever had," she said in a laugh.

The dog lifted his head to narrow his eyes at her and whine. She did not know how to interpret his reaction to her depressing confession. Maybe she shouldn't have been so honest. Hermione began scratching him furiously behind his ears in an effort to distract both of them from admissions that were better left unuttered. When she dropped a soft kiss to the top of his head, her thoughts strayed to the furry dog's owner. She was concerned that Rod might be worried about his dog being out all night long. After a few more minutes of scratches, she climbed out of the massive bed.

Orville watched her cross the chilly bedroom to tug a heavy robe over her thick pajamas. She sat down in an armchair near the bedroom fireplace to pull on her heavy boots. The sad whines coming from the canine on the bed made Hermione chuckle. Clearly he was not ready to get up either. His whines only got louder when she gently ordered him off of the bed. Reluctantly, he complied with her request.

The dog was in no hurry to return to Rod's cottage to Hermione's intense amusement. His whimpers continued the entire trek over the blanket of snow to his owner's front door. Once they arrived at the front door she quickly knocked loudly to rouse the occupants within. Orville was clearly uncomfortable. No one came to the front door for at least a minute or two. Hermione was afraid that she was going to have to knock louder to wake Rod up. She hated having to wake him up, but he might have been concerned all night that his dog never came home. Orville continued to whine and even tried to run away from the door, but Hermione caught him by his neck. Careful not to injure the creature, she kept a firm hold on his giant neck to keep him from running off.

"Rod probably thinks you've been a naughty boy out all night. He's probably worried."

Orville settled down slightly at her words. When no answer came after another minute or so, the Saint Bernard pushed his nose against the front door. It opened easily. Temporarily startled by the door opening, Hermione loosened her hold on the dog enough that he was able to take off running inside of the cottage. She was at a loss as to how she should proceed. Would it be rude to just enter the cottage? Should she follow the dog? With the door wide open she was able to witness Orville run straight into the bedroom. Excited puppy barks filled the cottage. Clearly Millie was happy to see her fellow dog.

The partially open door the bedroom opened completely only moments after the older dog entered. Rod came walking out with a happy Millie hot on his heels. He had no shirt on. Hermione felt her cheeks heat up as she tried to avert her eyes from the bare chest she had only been able to see in the small kitchen window from a distance. She tried very hard not to dwell on the fact that he was every bit as attractive as she thought he was.

"Excuse me. I'm so sorry. Orville opened the door. He stayed with me last night. Thought you might be worried."

Embarrassed and uncomfortable, Hermione ran away from Rod's cottage to the safety of hers before the bewildered man even had a chance to speak a single word.

* * *

Rodolphus stood in the middle of his living room staring out the open front door for several long moments after the frazzled witch ran off. He did not even get a chance to speak to her before she took off running for the safety of her own cottage. Part of him was a little hurt by her abrupt departure. Cold air struck him directly in the chest causing him to shiver. All at once he understood why Hermione had been in such a hurry to run. Clearly his state of undress unnerved her in a delightfully adorable manner. Thinking about how her cheeks flamed red when she saw his bare chest made the Animagus smirk.

When he ran into the bedroom in his canine form, he transformed as quickly as possible. He wasn't sure if Hermione would rush into the cottage behind him and certainly didn't want to have her witness him become a man again. That would have been too embarrassing. She would have been furious and rightfully so. Once inside the bedroom he didn't even have time to think about pulling on a shirt. He pushed aside the upsetting thoughts about how he violated her trust by coming to her as Orville. Picking up Millie to snuggle the puppy, he couldn't help but find it amusing that he had such an effect on the young witch.

* * *

Hermione managed to avoid Rod for several days after her embarrassing moment in his doorway. She had been so mortified that she just ran away. Yes, in hindsight she was aware of how silly she had reacted. It was just a man without a shirt on. She had seen that time and time again without needing to run away like some kind of innocent virgin. Just the thought of facing him again made her feel embarrassed all over again. What was the effect that the wizard had on her? She hadn't been an innocent schoolgirl in several years and even when she was in Hogwarts it wasn't exactly like she was some kind of naïve ingénue.

By Wednesday she could no longer hide in her cottage. She was almost out of food and completely out of wine. Concerned that her only neighbor must have thought she was insane, she even avoided the kitchen window every time she entered the room. All she needed was to look out the window and catch sight of his bare chest again.

"You really need to find yourself a shag," she chastised herself.

Was it really her fault? She hadn't even really been touched in longer than she cared to remember. By the end of her marriage with Ron, it was easier to just avoid her husband than to try to initiate any kind of intimacy. They didn't work. When they were younger and their relationship was still fueled by the passion of a new relationship, they had had amazing chemistry. There were entire days they wouldn't get out of bed because they were so wrapped up in each other. So wrapped up in just _feeling._ And then they drifted apart. She would never say so out loud, but she really didn't blame him for seeking comfort in the arms of other women. In fact, there was a moment in their marriage when she started to secretly hope that he would. At least then if he was finding what he needed in other women, she wouldn't be expected to provide him the support and affection she really wasn't prepared to give.

Hermione dressed warmly. A long walk to the village was what she needed to clear her head. Too many days wrapped up in her own thoughts had been less than relaxing. She stepped outside of the front door and immediately cut her eyes to the cottage next door. Smoke was coming out of the chimney. Part of her worried that Rod would come bursting out any second. A giggle bubbled up out of her chest. She was being silly.

She was not very far down the path to the village when she spotted a familiar figure walking up ahead. Hermione paused her steps the moment she saw Rod. Before she could even make the decision whether or not she wanted to continue walking towards the village, Rod turned around. How did he know she was there? She was a long distance away and she always made an effort not to make much noise. His hearing must have been better than average. Once a warm smile crossed his lips, she knew she couldn't be rude.

Rod waited for her to catch up to him on the path. After the initial exchange of polite greetings, the pair opted to continue towards the village together. Neither of them spoke for a long time. The walk was pleasant enough that conversation wasn't necessary. Finally, Hermione could stand being silent no longer.

"I'm sorry about the other morning. Just running away. I must have seemed quite rude."

Rod's chuckles made her feel even more awkward than she already did. Hermione hated that she was not behaving like a mature adult. It felt out of character for her. Why did this man continue to have that effect?

"It's all right. I wasn't expecting company so early," he replied with a soft laugh.

"I just came by to return your dog. I thought you might be worried."

"Thank you. He does enjoy a good roam every now and again," Rod answered, coughing slightly to clear his throat. "He always finds his way home."

She wasn't sure what to make of her walking companion seeming to be uncomfortable with the mention of his dog. He was an interesting man, she'd decided early on in their acquaintance.

"I hope you don't mind that he stayed with me that night. I let him sleep in the bed with me."

"Lucky furry bastard."

Hermione giggled at his quiet outburst. Rod seemed almost surprised that he said anything at all, but finally laughed along with her. They continued walking in silence for a while longer simply enjoying the scenery. Her thoughts naturally kept returning to the man strolling only inches away. She had many questions for the man that all seemed inappropriate or impertinent. So few Purebloods would even bother to walk when they could Apparate or floo.

"Why do you walk so much?" she finally asked when her curiosity grew too strong. The wizard turned to give her a bemused expression without answering. "I mean, most Purebloods I've known use magic for everything. They would never dream about just walking when they could get there faster."

Rod shrugged his shoulders.

"I spent most of my life around people who used magic for every little tiny thing. I was guilty too. Magic is supposed to make your life simpler, but it doesn't."

Hermione understood him perfectly. Before she could stop herself, a confession she had never shared with anyone came dripping off of her tongue.

"There have been times in my life when I've wished that magic did not exist. I can't tell you the number of times that I've wished I was born a regular Muggle without all of the complications that came with it. The war certainly didn't help."

He didn't respond. All at once she felt even more self-conscious around the man. In her experience, if she had ever dared to share her true feelings with her magical family and friends, they would've all told her she was being ridiculous. Being magical was infinitely better than Muggle. It wouldn't have mattered if she argued with them. They would have just discounted her opinions as they had been doing since she was eleven years old. Feeling like she had to explain herself further, she kept talking.

"If I was just a simple Muggle I wouldn't have been in as much danger as I was from Voldemort."

Rod hissed slightly when she spoke. Hermione thought it strange. He cleared his throat and tried to pretend that nothing happened. She decided that he was one of those people who couldn't bear to hear his name. It was mildly annoying since she fought him, but knew most people didn't. She remembered Sada mentioning his wife died during the war. Instantly she felt bad for judging him for his reaction to Voldemort's name. Clearly he didn't come out of the war completely unscathed.

"Yes, but without your help, Harry Potter probably would've been unable to defeat the Da… _You Know Who_."

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes at Rod's remark. She had spent years trying to deny that his statement was the truth. Mostly for Ron's benefit. He always felt guilty about leaving them alone during the horcrux hunt. No matter how many times she or Harry assured him that he was forgiven, he would still refuse to hear it. She finally got to the point where she was always downplaying her contribution for her husband's sake. For whatever reason, she decided she wasn't going to do the same with Rod.

"Ordinarily I would say that you were mistaken, but now I don't think I will. You're not wrong. I played a very important role. Harry _might_ have been able to defeat him anyway, but it would have taken much longer."

"And your… _husband_ , what about him?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Talking about Ron with Rod was not high on her list of priorities. It actually made her ill at ease. For whatever reason she did not want to even think about her husband when she was with her neighbor. It felt strange for him to just casually mention the wizard she was trying so hard to not think about.

"Ronald played his own part in helping bring about the end of the war," she stated between clenched teeth. It was technically not a lie. Suddenly wishing to no longer speak about her estranged husband and to make it very clear to her walking companion that there was nothing left in her marriage, she blurted out another confession she'd been remaining silent about. "I've left my husband and I'm not going back."

It was the first time she had uttered the words aloud to another human being that she would not be returning to Ron. She knew that their family would expect her to at least try to reconcile with him when she ended her forced vacation. All of the Weasleys rallied around Audrey three years earlier when Percy was enmeshed in a scandal with his excruciatingly young assistant. Once enough time had passed, however, the overwhelming majority of the family encouraged her sister-in-law to return to her disgraced husband for the sake of their two young girls. Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before the same might of the Weasley clan was used against her in the same fashion. Unlike Audrey, however, Hermione was not still in love with her cheating husband. And their lack of children had been one of the largest issues in their marriage.

"Ending a marriage is always a difficult decision," Rod replied.

She remembered too late that he had had no choice to end his marriage and instantly felt guilty. Was the flippant manner in which she was talking about severing the matrimonial bonds she once promised to honor for the rest of her life a painful subject for him? Hermione felt her stomach twist in knots. The last person she wanted to upset was the quiet man shortening his strides to keep from outdistancing her much shorter legs.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "That was insensitive of me considering your wife…"

Hermione clamped her mouth shut. _He_ was not the one who mentioned his wife. She wasn't sure how upset he would be to know that their landlady was gossiping about her tenants. Rod turned to grant her a small smile to prove he wasn't upset.

"My marriage ended long before my wife passed away, I'm afraid," he admitted.

"Oh… I'm sorry."

He smiled at her again in an attempt to put her mind at ease. A lingering note of awkwardness hung in the air as they continued towards the village. Neither of them quite knew what to say. Hermione was even more curious to know more about the man, but it was not the time to ask.

Their conversation resumed on a much lighter tone the closer they got to the village. Neither of them spoke of anything of any consequence. Very soon it was easy to forget that there had even been any clumsiness between them as they completed their shopping together. Rod was the one who suggested they place a couple of discreet cooling charms on their bags to allow them the opportunity to enjoy lunch at a charming Muggle café in the village without worry that their purchases would spoil.

* * *

The afternoon passed with a rapidity that almost made Rodolphus sad. It seemed that time flew by when he was in the company of the much, _much_ younger witch. Their shared meal at the café had been the highlight of his… well, he couldn't exactly remember the last time he had a more enjoyable afternoon. Normally his visits to the village were short and to the point. He saw no need to linger too long. It wasn't safe to spend too much time out in the open near his home. If anyone recognized him he would no longer be safe in the area. The times he felt the need to seek out human companionship he tried to visit larger cities far from home.

Following their meal, the two neighbors walked back to their respective cottages together. They were enjoying their conversation about recent events in the news so much that he was reluctant to allow her back in her front door. Finally realizing that he was lingering too long for no other reason than he was simply enjoying the sound of her voice, he cleared his throat, made his excuses and rushed back to his cottage. Millie welcomed him back enthusiastically. It was only her excited kisses and barks that made him forget for a moment the woman next door.

Later that night after the dishes were all washed up following his solitary dinner, his attention kept drifting over to the lit up kitchen window identical to his own. He wondered what Hermione was up to, but didn't want to be caught watching her. Even after over a week of her living next door, he could not understand why he felt compelled to seek her out. It was madness and very, very dangerous. Not only was he a fugitive, he also violated her trust by going to her bed. If she knew who Orville really was, she wouldn't be pleased. Rod was angry with himself for being so impertinent. He really was a creepy old man.

Just after nine and before he could stop himself, Rod picked up a full bottle of wine and walked outside. His mind told him to stop and turn back around, but his feet kept going straight to the lovely witch's front door. A smiling Hermione opened the door only moments after he knocked. The sight of her dressed in her warm, comfortable clothes with her gloriously wild hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun made Rodolphus' stomach clench. She probably didn't even know how tempting she looked. Her laughter when she saw him raise the bottle of wine made him clear his throat and try to think on anything less stimulating before he made a fool of himself like an overly hormonal teenage wizard.

"Where are your dogs?" she asked, peeking her head out the door to see if he brought any furry visitors with him.

"Orville is roaming again and Millie's at home."

"All by herself? Poor puppy!"

Rodolphus laughed. He pointed his wand at the front door of his cottage to open it with a nonverbal spell. One whistle from her Alpha was all Millie needed to come running out the door towards the other cottage. They both laughed at her exuberance. Hermione stepped back to allow her two guests inside.


	6. Week Two: Wednesday Evening

Week Two – Part Two

Hermione couldn't help but be excited to see Rod standing at her front door. She knew that she shouldn't be so eager to have the man come visit her temporary home. They hardly knew each other and had already spent an entire afternoon together. Too much eagerness on her part to show that she enjoyed his company might be misconstrued as being inappropriate.

But when she saw him standing just outside her door, holding a bottle of wine and whistling to his excitable puppy, she found she no longer cared. She could not remember the last time she enjoyed an afternoon as much as she had that day's. Every moment with Rod just felt _easy_. How long had it been seen since she could say the same about someone else? Too long certainly.

She stepped back from the door to allow Rod and the bouncing Millie to enter her cottage. Once the door was closed behind her, Hermione moved towards the kitchen. Feeling the wizard only steps behind made her stomach flutter with nerves. Even after spending so much time around him earlier in the day, she still felt nervous around the man, but she reveled in the feeling. Just as it had been a long time since she felt so calm around a man, it had been a long time since she felt the pleasant nervousness that usually accompanied an innocent crush. Probably since the early days of her relationship with Ron.

"I hope you don't mind me just dropping by," Rod declared as she pulled a couple of wine glasses out of cupboard. "I wanted a glass of wine and didn't feel up to drinking alone."

"Of course I don't mind. I'll be happy to open my door to you if you're bearing wine or not."

The moment the words tumbled out of her mouth, she groaned softly to herself. Had she really just said that? Subtlety was clearly something she no longer was capable of in the man's presence. She busied her hands with opening the bottle of wine before she said something else embarrassing. An amused smirk on Rod's face was not helping.

They stood in the kitchen silently sipping their wine for a couple of slightly uncomfortable minutes. Hermione could feel Rod's eyes on her the entire time, almost as if he was waiting for her to make the next move. Millie sat at her master's feet also staring at the increasingly flustered witch.

Finally deciding that they couldn't remain standing in the kitchen making awkward eye contact for an extended period of time, she smiled and walked back to the front of the cottage. Rod followed close behind. When she stood at the sofa, she decided to conduct a little social experiment she hadn't had cause to attempt in years. Instead of taking the safest choice and sitting in the lone, comfortable armchair, Hermione eyed the sofa. If she sat mostly in the middle of the cushions, she thought she might be able to judge Rod's intentions. If _he_ sat in the armchair, they were in for an evening of safe, uncomplicated conversation. But if he chose to sit next to her on the couch where their legs would almost be touching, that might mean he wasn't just over there for the chance to share a glass of wine with a new friend. It would be much more intimate.

Hermione settled down in the middle of the couch trying not to make it obvious she was holding her breath in anticipation of Rod's choice. He stared at the empty chair for a couple of beats. When she thought he would choose the safe option, she couldn't ignore the disappointment in her gut. She was just about to sigh in frustration when his knee bumped hers as he sat down on the couch.

Before she could feel her cheeks and her neck blush like she was sure they were going to, Millie jumped up on the sofa to distract them both. The happy puppy had no concept that she might have been interrupting a delicate moment. Nor did she care. She wiggled her fluffy, little body between the amused couple. Neither of them could suppress a laugh at her exuberance.

Hermione reached out to pet the puppy. Rod had the same idea. Their hands brushed over the puppy's belly that she was happily putting on display. Jolted by the contact, Hermione pulled her hand back quickly. Another amused smirk crossed Rod's face. It really should be illegal to look that handsome in her opinion. She smiled back and resumed petting Millie a safe distance away from Rod's hand.

"So Orville's out again. Does it not bother you that he's always out and you don't know where he is?"

"Not really," he answered. "He always comes home."

A wave of melancholy fell over Hermione at his words.

"Until one day he doesn't. My cat Crookshanks was the same especially when I was at Hogwarts. Never could keep him confined to Gryffindor Tower. Always out roaming like Orville."

She stopped speaking to take a generous sip of wine. Even years after, his absence still made her sad. Crookshanks was such a happy part of her life. He had been there for her when no one else was. Her years in the castle had often been lonely. Even with Harry and Ron. They didn't understand her and often they were at odds with each other. She didn't expect Rod to understand. Crookshanks was just a cat after all. When she hazarded a glance in his direction, all she could see was concern. He appeared sympathetic.

"May I ask what happened to your cat?"

"Fucking Death Eaters."

The moment the words came out of her mouth Rod almost choked on his wine. He coughed a few times and tried to clear his throat. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable talking about Lord Voldemort's murderous followers. All at once Hermione remembered Rod's wife died during the war. It was an easy fact to forget simply because she didn't want to dwell on the man's sadness. Perhaps the mention of Death Eaters brought back horrible memories of his late wife. She refilled their glasses, hoping she hadn't upset him when he'd hardly even been there long.

"We were at a wedding," she explained. "A wedding at my in-laws, err, well, soon to be _ex_ in-laws. Death Eaters attacked looking for Harry. In the chaos, Crookshanks got lost. None of the Weasleys ever saw him again."

"He could have gotten away."

Hermione appreciated the soft, reassuring tone he used. It helped somewhat. She met his concerned blue eyes and gave him a grateful half-smile.

"Yes, I suppose it's possible that he got away, but I never stopped looking for him when the war ended. Futile, I know. If he wasn't killed during the attack, he's surely died of old age by now."

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. I know it's just a cat. It's not like I lost a person I loved…" She immediately shut her mouth wishing she hadn't said a word. "Shit. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Rod smiled a slightly pained smile. Millie turned over onto her paws to be able to nudge her master with her head in a gesture of comfort. If it was possible, Hermione felt even more like shit. She had _just_ thought about his late wife. Why did she have to bring up loss again? And over a damn cat? Yes, Crookshanks meant the absolute world to her, but in the end, he was just an animal. She didn't lose her spouse in what was undoubtedly a horribly violent manner.

"Sada told me your wife died when I first came," Hermione stated. "I'm sorry it's none of my business."

"It's all right. Truly. I meant what I said before. My marriage was over long before Trixie died."

As soon as his wife's name came out of his mouth, Rod looked sick. Hermione thought it odd. She believed there was clearly more to the story of his late wife, but she did not want to pry. It wasn't polite or friendly to badger a new acquaintance with the gory details of how their wife was murdered. Without even thinking about possible ramifications and just simply because she needed to fill up the tense silence, she blurted out an awkward confession.

"Once I was so angry with Ron that I accused him of killing my cat."

Rod was surprised. He turned his full attention back to her.

"Do you really think he did that?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. It would make sense. Ron always despised her Crookshanks. From the first day she got him at the Magical Menagerie right before third year. He never forgave the cat for almost killing his pet rat. It didn't matter that said rat turned out to be a coward hiding in his animagus form. Crookshanks would never be forgiven. He used to say that she loved her cat more than she loved people. At least that statement was partially true. She absolutely loved Crookshanks more than _most_ people.

"I'd like to believe he wasn't capable, but the man I married is not the same man I fell in love with."

"I'm afraid I understand that all too well myself. My wife was only a shell of the girl I fell in love with when she died."

She took another big gulp of wine from her glass. Rod followed suit. At the rate they were going, they would polish off that bottle before much time passed. Before she spoke again, she wondered if she should a bottle of her own. She wasn't ready for him to leave yet.

"Maybe that's why I'm handling all of this better than I imagined I would. I did my mourning for the man Ron used to be years ago."

They sipped the rest of their wine in a comfortable silence. Staring at the flames in the fireplace always calmed Hermione down. She loved watching the wood catch and burn while the flames danced. Sometimes she could almost convince herself she was seeing something in the fire. It was ridiculous, of course. While they sat in the silence, they took turns petting and scratching Millie. Since the conversation took a sad turn, the puppy's big brown eyes had not left her master's face. She kept her tiny, fluffy body pushed up against his for whatever silent comfort she was able to offer. More than once their hands brushed while they were petting the dog. Each time it happened they would both smile shyly at the other but not say anything. Hermione felt at ease with the man. By the time Rod's bottle of wine was completely empty and their glasses needed refilling, she felt the need to blurt out another confession.

"My husband resents me because I'm unable to have children."

Rod stared at her with concern and worry in his eyes. Hermione's heart felt tight. In a single facial expression from a practical stranger, she received more comfort than she ever did from her own husband. Her _failure_ to provide Ron with children had been the single largest issue of their entire marriage. It was not something she was terribly comfortable speaking about with anyone, but for whatever reason, she felt Rod would understand.

"He's from a large family and he's always wanted children. We tried early on, but nothing. We went to a special Healer and found out it would probably never happen."

Rod did not interrupt her as she spoke about her heartbreaking struggles with infertility. He simply sat back and listened. It was strange to Hermione to have someone actually paying attention to her as she spoke. Most people in her life simply waited for her to stop talking so they could speak. Never did they make her feel like they actually cared. She believed for the first time she could finally be honest with someone. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the isolation. For years she felt like no one was truly on her side.

"Ron even convinced me to go to a Muggle fertility specialist after he read about some procedures that were known to work. No idea how he found out. Probably from his meddlesome mother."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought of Molly. Her relationship with her mother-in-law had always been a bit difficult. Molly never understood how she could be content to have a career. How many times had she heard about all of the time she was wasting working at the Ministry? She was supposed to stay home and raise a family for her husband. It was no wonder their marriage wasn't happy, in Molly's opinion.

While Molly certainly wasn't a horrible woman, she took too much of an interest in her children's lives. It was doubly hard because Ron had the bad habit of telling his mother private business about their marriage. And naturally, Molly Weasley was a woman who had very firm and set opinions about everything. She was never shy about sharing them either. Nor could she keep a secret.

She hated that the entire family knew she struggled with getting pregnant and staying pregnant the couple of times she managed by some miracle. Everyone within the massive Weasley family treated Hermione differently. When one of her sisters-in-law announced they were pregnant, everyone tiptoed around her to break the news to her gently. Did they think she would break? Or that she wouldn't be happy for them? There was no need. She loved each and every one of her nieces and nephews fiercely.

"We tried. Are you familiar with in-vitro fertilization?"

Rod shook his head in the negative. Hermione wasn't surprised. It was considered a bizarre procedure in the magical world. When she mentioned it to one of her Healers at St. Mungo's, they were horrified by the concept. Realizing that her visitor wasn't bored yet, she explained everything she knew about in-vitro. He seemed fascinated. Of course, Hermione made it a point to learn everything that she possibly could before she agreed. It had been for nothing in the end.

"I was able to get pregnant for a very short time, but I lost the baby very early."

She did not even realize there were tears rolling out of her eyes. Though there were times she wondered if she even _wanted_ children, it was still a painful subject. The gentle touch of Rod's thumb brushing away a stray drop on her cheek startled her. She turned quickly to stare into his face. The concern and sympathy splashed across his features was overwhelming.

"I'm very sorry," he declared in a soft whisper.

Hermione smiled in an attempt to keep from crying. It was sore subject. Likely it always would be. One more way she always felt like she was a failure as a woman. It didn't help that the rest of the Weasley clan was perhaps a little _too_ fertile. She stood up abruptly to walk into the kitchen for another bottle of wine. Rod did not move to follow her. He understood that she needed a moment to compose herself and to simply take a deep breath. As Hermione stood over the kitchen sink wiping away the traitorous tears that would not stop, she could have kicked herself. It had never been her intention to get so serious. Several minutes later, she returned to the living room with another bottle to refill their glasses.

"Did you not wish to try again?" Rod asked once she sat back down on the couch and took a deep drink of the wine.

"Ron begged me to, but it was so difficult that I wasn't sure my heart could handle doing it again. I don't think he's ever really forgiven me for not wanting to try again."

"Were your Healers able to figure out _why_?"

Hermione took another big gulp of wine. At the rate she was drinking, she would be intoxicated before much more time passed. It would be a smart idea to slow down her drinking, but she did not want to. She felt inexplicably comfortable speaking about what was such a difficult subject with the man. Rod put her completely at ease. She somehow understood that he would never use the information to hurt her.

"Yeah. It was Bellatrix _Fucking_ Lestrange."

* * *

Rodolphus' stomach lurched at the sound of his late wife's name coming out of Hermione's mouth. What could she possibly mean that Bellatrix was responsible for her not being able to have children? What had his wife done to the poor girl before she was struck down in her duel with Molly Weasley? He felt sick and was afraid that he was giving too much away. Hermione was known for being an intelligent person. Surely she could pick up on his change in body language and demeanor. He tried to calm down before he trusted himself to speak.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Apparently, according to St. Mungo's finest Healers, exposure to the Cruciatus Curse, especially from a seasoned and powerful spell caster can do irreparable harm to a witch's reproductive system."

She sounded as if she was reading off of someone else's medical chart. There was enough of a disconnect between her words that he got the feeling this was a phrase she had heard many times before in the past. Though it was clinical and harsh sounding, Rodolphus thought he could sense the pain behind her words. Without giving it much thought, he reached across Millie's relaxed body to take the hand that wasn't holding a wine glass in his. Once more startled by his touch like she had when he brushed a tear from her cheek, Hermione stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Even in the dimness of the room, he could see the woman's eyes full of unshed tears. The light of the fireplace reflected back. A firm, but gentle squeeze of his hand seemed to calm her initial fears at the physical gesture.

"This woman _tortured_ you?"

He still did not trust his voice. The anger he could feel bubbling up inside of him was a foreign feeling. It had been a long time since he was _angry_ about anything. Upset, yes. Sad, of course. Lonely, without a doubt. Those were the emotions he was used to feeling. Years had gone by since the last time he felt even a hint of the rage that he could feel building within his veins. If Bellatrix was still alive and standing before him at that very moment, he would not hesitate to do to her what she had done to the remarkable young witch sitting next to him.

"During the war," Hermione explained. "We were captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix…"

It was clear that she was reluctant to continue describing what had to have been a harrowing night. More times than he could remember he had been subjected to the same curse by his master and his blushing bride. Even while Trixie was still his Trixie, she would curse him without hesitation. Only towards the end though. When she was losing grip on her reality as the woman he once loved more than life itself. If there was any person still alive in the world who could understand the pain that accompanied his wife's shout of ' _Crucio_ ', it was the poor bastard who didn't deserve the privilege of sitting on the same sofa as Hermione Granger and holding her hand.

"Bellatrix needed to get information out of us. Harry was too important to injure. He was needed to soothe Voldemort's…"

He held his breath in an effort to ignore the stinging pain on his Dark Mark. Even years later it still burned and stung if someone spoke his former master's name. The last time she casually said the Dark Lord's name he'd been unable to prevent the hiss of pain coming out of his mouth. He would need to be more careful around her. An Order of Merlin, First Class recipient would not shy away from saying the name of the vanquished wizard her best friend killed years earlier. If Rodolphus was a braver man, he might have even been able to whisper the name quietly to himself in the stillness of his own home.

".. anger at being called back. His blood was too precious to spill. I was the one who was worth the least."

His blood pressure rose rapidly at the simple sentence. He could hear his heart beat pounding in his ear. The anger that was only hinted at earlier when she spoke of his wife torturing her on the floor of Lucius' damned overly ornate hardwood floors returned tenfold. _She was worth the least?_ Rodolphus turned those hateful words over in his mouth several times, tasting their bitterness. If he had a time turner and could go back to that night, he'd leave his safe hiding place at the Three Broomsticks to kill his wife with his bare hands. It was something he should have done years before they were thrown into Azkaban.

"It was hard. I almost gave up a thousand times, but I didn't tell her what she wanted to know. I didn't betray my friends."

"Then you showed more bravery at your young age than most people will their entire lives."

His hammering heart rate sped up slightly when she smiled. Part of him feared he was in danger of having an episode if he did not calm himself down. Even if he was a wizard with a life expectancy longer than Muggles, he was not a young man. Rodolphus took a series of deep breaths. Hermione seemed to understand what he was trying to do. While he breathed in and out, she kept silent.

"I'm very sorry that you experienced that, Hermione."

"Thank you. I'm all right now."

To emphasize her simple statement, she squeezed his hand in much the same way he'd just squeezed hers. It helped… _slightly_.

"But sadly, the Healers don't think there is anything that can be done for me as far as children are concerned," she continued. "Perhaps it is for the best. I'm not sure how good of a mother I would actually be."

Her words surprised him. His expression must have shown because the softest, most adorable giggle bubbled up out of her mouth. A smile quirked at the corners of his mouth at the sound. His blood pressure slowly began to drop back down to a safer level.

"It's a terrible thing to say, I know, but I think I'd make an awful mother. I can hardly remember to feed myself. How can I be trusted to keep a child alive? Maybe that's what Ron resented the most. Not that I _couldn't_ have children, but that maybe I didn't really even _want_ them."

Rodolphus understood without needing confirmation that she was confiding in him a secret she had never shared with anyone else before. Perhaps she had not even admitted it to herself yet. There certainly were women who were not cut out to be mothers. He'd married one. Though they had initially been overjoyed when she was pregnant with their first child, he always suspected there was a hint of relief when Trixie miscarried. He had been heartbroken, almost unable to function with the disappointment and regret. Bellatrix cried once and then never again. There were three more after her first. Each lost child hardened her heart just as it cut his open anew.

"Children are not for everyone," Rodolphus stated.

"What about you? Do you have any children?"

He tried to smile without revealing too much of the lingering pain that still struck him at the oddest times when that particular subject was brought up. He also tried to ignore the fact that all of his children would have been older than the young witch he was sharing a couch with. Imagining being old enough to be her father was doing nothing positive for his self-esteem.

"My wife and I were unfortunately unsuccessful as well."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. It's for the best, I'm sure. I do well with dogs, but I don't think I would make a good father. They would likely overpower me and convince me to feed them sweets for dinner."

Her tinkling laugh made his stomach flutter. It was such a lovely sound. He wanted to hear it again.

"I would have no control over them. If they cried and said, 'Papa, I don't want to go to bed', I'd probably let them stay up just to get them to stop crying. I'd be the obnoxious father that bought them everything they wanted when we were at the shops. They would become absolute terrors."

Rodolphus loved her smile. It lit up her entire face. She was already young, _painfully_ young, but each time she crinkled up her little nose and laughed, years seemed to fall off of her countenance. Had she always been that serious? Clearly she had grown up too quickly. She had been forced to operate as an adult in a world that was too big for her. It was because of men like him who blindly followed the Dark Lord when deep down they knew better that stole her childhood. Perhaps even her family. Why else was she alone in a cottage in the middle of the countryside instead of tucked in a cozy bed where her mum could coddle her and her dad could gently stroke her hair and remind her that no matter what and no matter how old she grew, she would always be his little girl?

He set his wine glass down on the small table directly behind the sofa. Before she could protest, he removed her glass from her hand to set it down next to his. Rodolphus was running on instinct, something he hadn't done in longer than he could remember. She was no longer laughing, but the smile had not yet left her lips. Her head tilted slightly to the side in a questioning gesture that was so reminiscent of Millie that he actually laughed. Without relinquishing hold of her other hand, he used his empty hand to slide across her cheek. His lips were against hers long before he could talk himself out of such a bold and reckless move.

* * *

 _Author's Note: For those who aren't aware, Freya Ishtar, Kittenshift17 and I have teamed up together to start a Facebook group that is dedicated to Death Eater-Centric fan fiction. Please consider joining if you are interested in sneak peeks of all of our stories, posts about your favorite (and least favorite) Death Eaters and much, much more. It's called The Death Eater Express and the link is on my profile._


	7. Week Two: Wednesday Night - Thursday

Week Two – Part Three

The moment Rod's lips touched Hermione's, she didn't know what to do. It wasn't as if it was a shock that he was kissing her. No, he'd been staring at her lips for the previous half an hour while they brought up parts of their respective pasts that were perhaps better left undisturbed. It had been exciting to know that the quiet man who lived next door was no longer looking at her in a completely innocent manner. More than once while they discussed the painful parts of their histories her gaze dipped below his eyes. She tried to imagine what it would be like if he forgot to be the perfect Pureblood gentleman.

It had been a long time since anyone had shown the slightest amount of interest in her mouth at all. Even when all she did was speak, she got the impression that no one cared much for that part of her face. Hermione couldn't remember the last time _anyone_ kissed her beyond the perfunctory pecks that were required to pass between married couples as they greeted each other or rushed off to work.

Her relationship with Ron fizzled out a long time before she caught him in bed with the tarty blonde. There had been very little physical contact of any kind between the former best friends who just happened to share a last name and a lumpy mattress. If she couldn't remember the last time her husband kissed her, she certainly couldn't remember the last time she had had sex. It was depressing really.

In the midst of her primal urges taking control of her body over her mind, she gave in to the act. For the first time in bloody _years_ she actually felt desirable. Rod's impassioned kisses and the manner in which one hand was still playing with her hair and the other was slowly and deliberately sliding down her back made her forget everything beyond the fact that his lips were softer than she expected and it felt amazing to have someone touch her again.

When the fog of pheromones began to lift from her brain, Hermione realized that there was a very real possibility that she and Rod could end up having sex at some point. Maybe even quite soon. Was she ready for that? Would she even remember what she was supposed to do? She had always heard that just like riding a broomstick, one never really forgot how to have sex, but she had never been a particularly good flier and what if she embarrassed herself and he never wanted to see her again? Oh, Merlin, what if she couldn't remember where her hands were supposed to go? And it wasn't as if she had had a lot of experience outside of Ron. They got together so quickly and so young. Beyond a couple of awkward times with Viktor and one horrible, horrible night with Cormac she wished she could obliviate from her mind, Ron had been it. What if what made Ron excited and pleased was completely weird? She didn't want to terrify the man she still had to live next door to for a few more weeks.

There was clearly a great deal of passion between the two of them. She might have been extremely lonely and hungry for a tender touch of any kind, but Hermione still could not deny there was something there. Even a simple kiss was enough to ignite a fire in her belly that had lain dormant for a very long time. As her thoughts began to drift to ever more terrifying possibilities of how she could mortify herself in front of the handsome man on her couch, she tried to calm herself down. She knew she shouldn't worry about what _could_ happen. Wasn't it enough to simply just enjoy the moment?

Rod was an incredible kisser. She worried that she was drooling all over him like some sort of inexperienced third year kissing a boy underneath the stands at the Quidditch pitch for the first time. If she was, he was the type of man that would be too polite to tell her so. They seemed to be well-matched. As their kiss stretched on, Rod's confidence seemed to grow. His hand moved from her hair to meet the other one on her back. Not once did he dip down below her waist. Hermione kept hoping he would forget himself, but even in heat of the moment, he was still being respectful. She began to wonder what it would take for him to _stop_ treating her like a lady.

She nervously ran her hands over his chest for the first time. How many times had she _accidentally_ sneaked a peek of it through his kitchen window? She would be absolutely mortified if he ever figured out that she spied on him as often as she did. Rod was encouraged by the feel of her hands on him. Perhaps he had been wanting to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him. He must have been every bit as lonely as she was. The thought made her sad and threatened to ruin the moment.

Determined to not let her overactive mind and her melancholy ruin her evening, Hermione slid her hands around his neck and pressed her entire body closer to his. The sudden change in position meant his hands landed on her arse without meaning to. Once he realized, Rod groaned and tightened his grip. Both poor souls were so wrapped up in the feel of their hands and their lips on the other that they forgot about the puppy lying on the couch between them.

Millie's sharp bark of warning startled them enough that they pried their lips off of the other's. The puppy wasn't upset. Just merely a little annoyed by being crushed between them. From the moment Rod stared down at his dog and then back up into Hermione's eyes, she could tell nothing further was going to happen that night. Maybe not ever. The flush of his cheeks proved he was embarrassed. Was it truly that awful? Hermione could only think the absolute worst.

"I'm… I don't know… what… I'm," Rod stuttered, unsure how to put his feelings into a complete sentence.

Hermione wished she was alone for the first time since he knocked on her front door. She worried that he thought he made a mistake by kissing her at all. Maybe he only kissed her because he felt sorry for her after their serious discussion. Her thoughts coupled with the way that Rod could no longer meet her eyes made her feel self-conscious. She didn't want to be anyone's pity snog. Millie's interruption may have been for the best. What if they'd gone too far? His grip on her arse seemed to promise more than just a few awkward fumblings on the sofa. He likely would've regretted it. She just wanted her privacy again.

"It's late," Rod stated. "I think we should go home."

He jumped up to his feet and pulled his puppy into his arms. Every second that he stood in front of Hermione and didn't look at her, the more she feared that she would cry. She was so embarrassed how it all ended. Rod probably didn't even want to kiss her. Hermione began to think that maybe she should leave the cottage. She could find somewhere else to stay for the remainder of her suspension. Maybe somewhere warmer.

Rod thanked her for the wine and wished her a good night. He rushed out the door with still reddened cheeks. Hermione was utterly humiliated. When the door shut behind her fleeing companion, she wanted to run away too. What was she thinking allowing the man to kiss her? Clearly neither one of them were thinking straight.

She picked up the bottle of wine they hadn't yet finished deciding she would finish it in the bath. A glass wasn't even necessary. In the initial few minutes following the abrupt end to her evening, she tried to busy her mind with meaningless tasks. Turning the taps on. Checking the water. Measuring out the appropriate amount of bubble bath. Throwing in some lavender oil for added relaxation.

When the bath was full, she undressed quickly and slipped underneath the water. The more time passed and the more she thought about how her evening had gone, the more embarrassed she became all over again. She worried that at twenty-five she might never be able to have a successful relationship again. No matter how hard his family might pressure her or how often he apologized, Hermione was never going to go back to Ron. Life was entirely too short to spend it miserable and ignored.

The tears were rolling out of her eyes before she could make herself stop acting so silly. She had been alone before. It was nothing new. Hell, over five years of marriage and she was still alone during that time. Hadn't she had a lifetime to prepare herself for being strong and soldiering on? But even for just a few minutes she was able to forget what it was like to have no one.

Remembering the way it seemed to feel so _right_ with Rod's lips against hers only made her sadder and the tears flow faster. She knew she would feel better after a good cry. She always did. Someone once told her that strong, independent women never cried. They thought it was a sign of weakness and in a wizard's world, she had to prove that she was every bit as tough as there were. Truthfully, it was complete and utter shite. Years of her life were spent trying to follow that ridiculous bit of unwanted and unasked for advice. Every time she cried while she was at Hogwarts, which she was embarrassed to say was quite a lot, she used to think about how she was failing at being strong and independent. During the war when she huddled freezing in the tent worried about whether or not she and her boys would make it through the next day, she cried.

She wasn't exactly sure when she decided there was absolutely nothing wrong with expressing her emotions through tears when she felt overwhelmed, but it had been a revelation. Perhaps there were some ignorant souls who thought crying made a woman weak and somehow less valuable as a human being. Hermione pitied them. While she did her best to keep her tears as private as possible, they were a cathartic release. Bottling up her emotions didn't make a person strong or independent. It made them a ticking time bomb.

Hermione gave in to the emotion of feeling desperately sad about how her evening and likely all other evenings with a potential mate would go. Knowing that it would be too awkward living next door to Rod, she made the decision to start looking for somewhere else to stay in the morning. Thinking about running away from the first place she'd felt any measure of peace in literal years only made her cry harder.

A sudden sound of scratching at her bathroom window made her jump. She turned to see the wet nose of a curious Orville pressed up against the glass. It made her laugh, her tears temporarily forgotten. Hermione picked her wand off the side of the tub and pointed it at her front door. Orville's face disappeared from the glass and only a short time later, the massive dog bounced into the bathroom.

* * *

Rodolphus wasn't completely sure that Hell was real or not, but he was fairly certain he would end up there when he died. Not necessarily for all of the innocent people he helped to torture and kill when he was terrified out of his wits and serving the Dark Lord. Though he was certain those instances would hurt any chance he ever had at an appeal. No, the main reason why he was going to go to Hell was because he was a disgusting, dirty, old man who wasn't worthy to know an angel like Hermione.

As he laid down on the bathroom rug and tried not to stare at the beautiful, naked woman drinking wine straight from the bottle, he couldn't do anything other than hate himself. Naturally, it was extremely difficult _not_ to stare. She was every bit as beautiful as he imagined she would be. Coming to her in his animagus form was a complete violation of her privacy, but he would worry about that later.

He had been able to hear her crying when he was outside of her cottage. Sometimes his extremely sensitive ears picked up more than he wished to hear. It made him sick to know that he was the reason she was crying. Why did he kiss her and run away? He had been so embarrassed when he came to his senses. He didn't have any right to force himself on the girl. Now that she'd rid herself of her worthless husband, she had all the opportunities in the world to have a bright future. Why would he think for a second that a fugitive ex-Death Eater whose late wife once tortured her would ever be able to touch the witch? She deserved much better than he could ever offer.

Hermione started to get up from the tub, sloshing water all over the tile in her clearly inebriated state. Rodolphus felt awful about staring. He rushed over to pick up a towel in his mouth and with his eyes firmly closed shut, carried it over to the tub.

"What a good boy you are! Thank you, Orville. Looks like Rod trained you well."

He didn't open his eyes until he heard her climb out of the bath water and her feet hit the floor. Wrapped in the towel, Hermione headed for the bedroom. Rodolphus stayed put right on the rug. When she returned a couple of minutes later, she was dressed in a pair of warm, flannel pajamas. He decided her liked her best dressed so casually. It made him think of lazy Sunday mornings.

"It's been a weird night, Orville. You missed me make a complete fool of myself with your master."

She stepped up to the washbasin to brush her teeth.

"I should probably kick you out and make you go home to your master…"

He didn't mean to whine. It was a completely involuntary response. Hermione laughed.

"But I'm not going to. I'm feeling a little lonely tonight and could use the company."

Rodolphus crossed the bathroom to rub up against her legs. As soon as she finished brushing her teeth and turned out the light, he ran into the bedroom to jump on the bed. Hermione laughed again before climbing into bed with him.

He didn't waste a moment snuggling up to her just like he did the first time. Trying not to think about how creepy he was being was impossible. If she found out the truth, she would never forgive him and he wouldn't blame her one bit.

Hermione ran her hand over his fur and stopped several times to scratch behind his ear in his favorite spot. Part of him believed staying permanently in his animagus form wouldn't be so bad if he had that to look forward to for the rest of his life. Of course how he could explain that he continued to live well past the age most dogs died would be a problem. She'd be smart enough to figure it out too. No, it was a terrible idea. He seemed to be full of them lately.

"I'm so embarrassed, Orville, that I don't think I can ever speak to Rod again."

Rodolphus licked her hand in encouragement. Hermione giggled and kissed his head.

"Your master is an amazing kisser though. Now don't go tell him I said that. I'll deny it if you do."

She laughed and Rodolphus felt proud. He began to regret running out of her cottage so quickly. Perhaps he should have knocked Millie to the floor before continuing what they started. He had been embarrassed by his actions. Thought she would be horrified by their age differences. Clearly he was wrong.

"I think I should find somewhere else to stay."

He whined again, prompting her to scratch behind his ears.

"This is Rod's home. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable with me living next door. I think he just kissed me because we had too much wine and he felt sorry for me. I must seem like a pathetic fool."

She kissed his head once again and rolled over. Her breathing changed almost instantly as she fell asleep. Rodolphus was unsure what to do next.

* * *

Cold air blowing across Hermione's face woke her up the next morning. She was freezing despite all of the heavy blankets she'd been snuggled under all night. There was no dog in her bed either. When she reached out to touch the place Orville had been sleeping the night before, it was as chilly as the rest of the room. A quick glance to the main room of the cottage showed the front door to be wide open.

Reluctantly she got out of bed. Orville was nowhere to be found. Deciding he must have used the open front door to his advantage and returned home, Hermione crossed the cottage to close it. She had had a lot to drink and hadn't exactly been thinking clearly. It wasn't inconceivable to think that she forgot to close it before going to bed.

She lit a fire in an attempt to warm the cottage back up. Deciding that several cups of steaming hot tea were in order, Hermione moved towards the kitchen. As she passed the dining table, a discarded scarf caught her eye. Rod must have left it in his hurry to put as much distance between them as possible.

As much as she was sure it was going to be awkward to see him again so soon, she made herself get dressed. If she left like she planned, the scarf would need to be returned. She took her time walking the short distance between cottages. When she could no longer delay the inevitable moment, she knocked on his front door.

There was no answer. Not even when she knocked a second and a third time much harder. Curious, she walked around to the kitchen window to take a peek inside. It looked empty and dark. A fire wasn't even lit in the fireplace.

Hermione returned to the front door and turned on the doorknob. It wasn't locked. She stood just outside the open door calling for Rod or his two dogs. Still no answer.

She entered his bedroom to find an empty room with a bed made. It felt like no one even lived there. With her curiosity getting the better of her, she pulled open the door to his wardrobe. All of his clothes were missing.

* * *

He had been fortunate to find an empty compartment on the train. Though he only had one bag magically expanded to hold all of his worldly possession and a sleeping, silenced and disillusioned puppy on his lap, it was easier that he didn't have to feign any kind of polite or friendly behavior with a stranger. It hadn't taken him long after Hermione had fallen asleep to make his decision. Life in his native country was too dangerous. He'd lingered too long. It was time he moved away even further and made a new life.

But, first, he needed to make a stop in London.


	8. Week Two: Friday - Saturday

_Author's Note: Thank you all for being so patient as I finished up_ The Minister's Secret _. I knew that if I didn't devote my entire being to that story, it would never get finished. Or it would take twelve years and I just was super ready to move on. So, this story is officially off of Hiatus. Now, that doesn't mean that I will magically be updating this every two or three days. It just means I will be actively writing it again and posting as I complete chapters. Please don't beg me to write more and faster. This story began as a challenge and trust me, it is_ ** _still_** _a massive challenge to write. It takes me at least three times as long to write a chapter for this story than it does for any other story I write. It's hard and it's not always fun, so updates will come when they come. And yeah, no, begging will get you nowhere. I write on my own terms. This is my hobby. Thank you for your understanding._

* * *

Week Two - Part Three

There were not enough words in the English language to adequately describe how humiliated Hermione was after she realized how quickly Rod left his cabin. Once she was aware that all of his personal belongings had been cleared out of Sada's cottage, she had been sorely tempted to follow his example. She returned to the refuge of her own temporary home to start about the business of soothing her wounded nerves.

Even with over twenty-four hours to process his abrupt departure, she still couldn't understand why he had run off. That certainly didn't stop her from attempting to dissect every single moment to try to figure it out. His bloody fantastic kissing had clearly been a mistake. They had each had too much wine to drink. Emotions had been high due to the sensitive nature of their conversation. What had compelled her to be so open with him anyway? She shared parts of herself with the enigmatic wizard that she had never shared with anyone else. Not even her own husband.

Maybe her vulnerability had terrified the man. He clearly had been used to living an uncomplicated life alone in the middle of a beautiful countryside with no one to bother him but his two dogs. That wasn't exactly a person who was able to easily segue into any kind of relationship, romantic or otherwise, with a woman he hardly knew with a myriad of her own personal problems that she had yet to deal with completely. She had never been easy to live with as it was. Toss in her baggage from her marriage with Ron and she couldn't blame the man for running the first chance he got.

Still, he could have at _least_ waited a couple of days before disappearing into the night. Maybe said goodbye. Or at least made an effort to keep her from believing that everything that happened had been one hundred percent her fault. Had she thrown herself at the shy man? Though he might have said that he had already begun to mourn the loss of his marriage before his wife died, that didn't necessarily mean he was ready to move on.

Was she too young? Despite marrying a man several months younger, she had always been attracted to men that were much older. Some might have claimed that she had issues that needed to be resolved with the help of a professional, but she knew she wasn't looking for a father figure. She merely appreciated the more mature men who didn't seem as if they wanted nothing more from life than one long party. It was exhausting being told over and over again that she was 'no fun'. Sometimes the older men offered a stability and a security impossible to find in those closer to her own age.

Remaining in Sada's cottage was likely to turn into a nightmare. In just the single day since he'd run off, she lost count the number of times she looked out the kitchen window hoping for a glimpse of the man who fascinated her so. There would be no more rest and relaxation for her in that place. As much as she didn't want to stay, she also didn't want to leave. Against all odds and her own pessimism, she'd been able to find some happiness in her forced vacation. It seemed that whatever joy she'd found was at an end.

In the morning she would start thinking about where she would go from there. Until then, she climbed into the massive, empty bed, closed her eyes, and desperately tried to forget what it felt like to have Rod's lips against hers.

* * *

Rodolphus stood in the middle of the rented room he'd procured in the middle of a less-than-respectable Knockturn Alley inn. Millie stared at him with an adorable, canine sneer on her face. Even his puppy wasn't pleased with the surroundings. Unused to anything beyond the cottage she'd spent the last several months in after leaving her mother, she was not happy to be stuck in the dingy room with the outdated furniture and the indescribable smells that assaulted both of their sensitive noses.

Knowing that his business shouldn't take him more than a day to complete, he sought out one of the inns in the rundown section of London. No one there would be likely to pay him any mind. After all, many of them were attempting to be as invisible as possible themselves. Everyone had their secrets in that Alley. He would be left alone.

Millie's growl of disgust at her surroundings made Rodolphus laugh. He could sympathize. A quick transformation into his Animagus form to have a discussion with her on the importance of remaining silent was needed. She seemed to understand that they wouldn't be there long and agreed to lay quietly on the bed while she waited for his return. He rewarded her with several scratches behind the ears and a lovely rub of her belly. It was enough to satisfy her in the short term.

Before he stepped out of the room, he glamoured his face. He knew that the enchantments wouldn't hold up in Gringotts where he was going to liquidate his vault, but he wasn't worried. He had a goblin on his side. One that he had been bribing for years to keep silent about his existence. As long as he was paying the creature, he knew he could trust him.

Walking through Knockturn Alley and then into Diagon Alley had an odd effect on the wizard. It had been so long since he allowed himself to wander through the familiar districts that it almost felt like it was the first time he was experiencing them all over again. With a completely nondescript face, no one paid him any mind. He was just another shopper enjoying the brisk chill in the air. It felt strangely good to be back in London. Out of his very legitimate fear, he'd been avoiding the city for years.

His steps took him past the rather whimsical shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He'd been curious about it ever since the lovely afternoon he spent with Hermione in the village near their cottages. She'd described it in vivid detail. As she discussed it, she had nothing but positive things to say about the shop her twin brothers-in-law created. They both sounded like truly remarkable wizards, and not for the first time, he regretted his part in the force that was ultimately responsible for the death of one of them. He might not have uttered the curse that brought the wall down on the unfortunate Weasley, but there had been a time when he willingly associated with the one who had.

As he reached for the front door of the shop, he tried to convince himself that he was absolutely _not_ entering the establishment in the hopes of getting a good look at the wizard Hermione married. That seemed somehow like a violation of privacy. Something he would _never_ do. At least, not in his human form. Pushing aside the thoughts of impropriety that had been plaguing him since the first time he entered Hermione's cottage as Orville, he stepped inside. There would be a lifetime ahead him with chances to chastise himself for his deviant behavior.

Due to it being in the middle of a Friday while Hogwarts was in session, the shop was fairly quiet. Business was slow for a joke shop when its prime shoppers were stuck in a castle hundreds of miles away learning to transfigure a raven into a water goblet. Rodolphus wandered through the aisles of the shop examining the products for sale. Several of them were quite ingenious. He could see why they had become such a success.

It seemed strange to him that no one had even bothered to greet him or ask if he needed any assistance when he entered the establishment. Most of the shopkeepers in the Alley could be frustratingly pushy when it came to customers. Perhaps that had simply been his experience as a member of a wealthy Pureblood family, he decided. With his anonymous face and his simple clothing, he didn't stand out as anyone particularly special.

When he turned a sharp corner somewhere near the impressive selection of dungbombs, a bright red head of hair caught his attention. Careful to step back into the aisle to keep himself mostly hidden, Rodolphus took his opportunity to get a better look at the man Hermione married. Instantly, he was convinced that she had settled far beneath her. The wizard had a sour expression on his face as he sorted through a stack of what must have been receipts behind the counter the till sat. Every few seconds the cretin sighed and continued flipping through his paperwork.

Rodolphus wanted to hurt him. _Badly_. How could he let a treasure like Hermione go? He would never understand how Ronald Weasley could even think about touching another woman when he had his remarkable wife coming home every single night to sleep in his bed. If he had her in _his_ bed, he would never let her go. He would spend every second making sure that she knew how desired and wanted she was. Nothing in all of Creation could ever induce him to cheat on Hermione. He would have just been thankful to hold her hand. Thoughts of their heated kisses and the feel of her hands running up his chest brought a flush to his cheeks. It was a pity that they would not get the chance to explore their undeniable chemistry any further.

Just as he was convinced that he had lingered too long in the shop and needed to get moving to the bank, a witch dressed in the lurid magenta robes worn by the staff suddenly appeared from the back room. Weasley's entire countenance lit up at the sight of his coworker. Rodolphus felt his eyes narrow. He concealed himself further behind the shelf to keep a close eye on what was going to happen next.

"Did you read the paper this morning?"

The witch spoke in one of those sing-song tones that brought pain to his ears. His late wife would speak that way when she was getting ready to share some particularly juicy gossip. As amused as the horrid witch appeared to be, he assumed she was every bit as malicious as his Trixie had been in the misfortunes of her fellow humans.

"You know I didn't, love. Mostly lies in that thing anyway."

"The Daily Prophet is speculating that your wife is locked up in some kind of asylum and that's why no one has seen or heard from her in so long."

Rodolphus' first instinct was to jump immediately to being affronted and angry on Hermione's behalf. Ron Weasley's first instinct was to chuckle softly. The former Death Eater felt a rage build up in him that he had allowed to lay dormant for many years. How _dare_ the worm joke about his wife's sanity? Not only was it absolutely nothing to joke about, it was completely untrue. And if she _had_ been forced to spend some time in a hospital to overcome the stress she had been under, was it any wonder with a horrible husband like him? Did he truly believe that the thought of his wife losing her mind was something to laugh about? He felt his fists clench, his fingernails digging into his palms. He wanted to break everything around him, starting with Ginger's jaw!

"She would love to read that article. Another of Skeeter's?"

The vapid cow nodded her head with a giggle. Weasley laughed again.

"Used to hate that reporter, but I've found lately that I'm enjoying hearing about what she writes."

"Do you know where you wife went?"

"No, and I don't care. I heard what happened at the Ministry. I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't so pleased she was there to file for a divorce."

The wizard who didn't deserve to spend a single moment in Hermione's presence reached for the ridiculous witch. His lips sought out her neck. The obnoxious giggle and the indecent moan that came out of her mouth should have been illegal. Did neither of them have the least bit of shame? They were in public, for Merlin's sake!

"Go into the stockroom. I'll meet you there in a minute."

The harlot giggled again as she walked off. Rodolphus was furious with how brazen they both were being. His eye caught an interesting product sitting on a nearby shelf. _Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder._ Digging around in his pockets for the exact amount, he placed enough coins on the shelf to more than cover the purchase of a single box. He was no thief after all. Fumbling with the packaging, he waited until Ginger walked right past him again, not even noticing he was there.

Rodolphus pointed his wand at the disgusting excuse for a wizard. He wasted no time casting a painful stinging hex straight to his groin. As Weasley screamed out in pain and fell to the floor, he threw the darkness powder onto the ground. Using his keen sense of smell to find the exit, he ran for the door, the unfortunate wizard's cries following him out of the shop.

Part of him knew that he should feel guilty for what he had just done, but he didn't. If he was honest with himself, he actually felt pretty good about his actions. Deciding to put off his plans at Gringotts for the moment, he walked into a nearby teashop. There was a stack of old newspapers sitting on an empty table. He sat down in the empty seat and immediately began flipping through the pages to find the articles he was certain would be there. Starting with the first day Hermione came to the cottage.

By the time he had finished reading only a few of the newspapers, he was so angry he could hardly see straight. The complete load of thestral shite printed on the parchment wasn't worth printing. One of the overly perky witches employed by the shop stopped at his table to refill his cup. When her eyes landed on the front page of the edition he was reading, she chuckled.

"Can you believe that scandal? That's all anyone can talk about. I was at school with her. Didn't know her very well, but she always seemed a bit unstable. That Rita Skeeter is amazing. You wouldn't believe all that she's uncovered about the so-called Golden Girl."

She rolled her eyes and walked away. Rodolphus felt his blood pressure spike. What he had read was bad enough, but he feared it would only get worse the more he continued. When he finally reached the end of the stack and was completely up-to-date with all of the articles written about the public breakdown of Hermione's marriage to the slug he hoped was still wallowing in misery in the floor of his shop, he was angrier than he could remember _ever_ being. He couldn't believe that anyone would read the rubbish the Skeeter bitch wrote.

He rose from the table, stormed out of the shop, and left Diagon Alley. Gringotts could wait. There was someone else he needed to see first.

* * *

Saturday was a little easier for Hermione than the previous couple of days. At the very least she had had enough time to soothe her injured pride with mass amounts of wine and embarrassingly trashy novels she never wanted anyone to know she read. Most of the immediate desire to vacate the area dissipated with the passing of time. She felt less like she needed to run away. Maybe it was silly of her to throw herself at the man who lived next door, but it wasn't _her_ fault that he couldn't handle a little bit of positive female companionship.

He would've gotten a lot more, most likely, if he hadn't run out the front door. There had been a moment, likely the exact second his hands grabbed her arse, that she felt pretty confident they were going to go a lot further than snogging like a couple of lovesick teenagers. She'd wanted to feel every inch of his skin underneath her hands. Wanted to know what it felt like to have the weight of his body on top of hers. It had been _so long_ since she felt desirable. So long since she knew that a man wanted her. It had been far more intoxicating than the wine.

Hermione sighed and snuggled down deeper in her blankets. She had plans to do nothing but alternate between reading and sleeping. Just like the day before, she had no desire to get out of bed. Later, when she wasn't feeling so emotionally vulnerable, she would chastise herself for letting the reactions of a single man affect her so deeply. Until then, however, she was going to tell her inner voice to 'shut the fuck up' and just let her sleep.

* * *

Sleeping in the foul Knockturn Alley hotel room was virtually impossible for Rodolphus. Even though he had allowed her the unheard of freedom of sleeping in the bed with him, Millie was miserable. She hated every second they were away from home and showed her displeasure by whining. He could agree with his puppy. There was _nowhere_ he'd rather be than back inside the cottage he'd made his home.

Somehow they managed to pass enough time until he was prepared for a meeting with his solicitor the next morning at nine. The wizard had been surprised to see him the day before, but he was always willing to make time for one of his best clients. He didn't care that Rodolphus was a fugitive as long as he continued to pay his retainer. Understanding that he held most of the power, he didn't hesitate to walk into the man's office carrying Millie under his arms. His solicitor might have been annoyed, but he did all that he could to pretend like it was perfectly normal to have a rambunctious puppy at an appointment.

"I did everything that you asked me to do, Mr. Lestrange. Is there anything else you require?"

"I don't believe so. Thank you for everything."

He stood up from his chair to shake the hand of the solicitor that had been serving his family for decades. Millie squirmed in his arms, ready to be released. Even she could sense that their time in the stuffy office had come to an end.

"Will you still be moving abroad?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Only minutes later he was walking out of the door of the office, spinning in place, and landing in front of his cottage. At the sight of her home, Millie barked and wiggled out of his arms. Rodolphus laughed when she rushed immediately to the couch to fall asleep. It must have been terribly exhausting for her to be forced to stay in the dingy inn.

He stood in the doorway of his cottage staring at his puppy peacefully napping for several minutes. As much as he wanted to rush next door to announce he'd come back, he was nervous. Hermione was going to be angry that he just disappeared without a word and he couldn't blame her one bit. She probably thought that he ran away because he couldn't handle her secrets. Or worse, maybe she was embarrassed and thought he didn't desire her. He truly didn't believe he could hate himself any more than he already did.

Finally, he talked himself into traveling the short distance to the other cottage. He knocked loudly on the front door. There was no answer for over a minute. Perhaps returning had been a big mistake. Just as he was about to turn around and leave, the door opened. Rodolphus had to remind himself to breathe. She stood there in a bathrobe with dripping wet hair. Even in her state of dishabille, she was stunning.

"I thought you left."

"I did, but… I came back."

The hurt expression on her beautiful face made the wizard long to dig a hole in the garden and hide. He felt terrible. Running off had seemed like the best choice in the moment. He was an idiot. As much as he didn't want to hurt her, he had.

"Do you need something?"

Her tone was cold. So unlike how she had been around him before he left. He deserved that and worse.

"I came to apologize for running out of here the other night. And then for leaving so abruptly yesterday morning."

She was still upset. He longed to kiss her again, prove that he meant what he said, but he doubted he would ever get another chance. He was such a fool.

"Why did you leave?"

"Because I'm an old fool who doesn't deserve to be in the same room with you."

"Why don't you let _me_ decide who's not good enough for me?"

Rodolphus sighed. Some of the tension between them began to loosen ever so slightly.

"Where did you go?"

"To London. I was going to empty out my vault."

He wasn't sure why he was being so honest. She didn't need to know the full truth. It was too dangerous. What if she was able to figure out who he actually was? He needed to be more careful.

"Why?"

The chill in her tone was enough to break any reservations he had about being even more honest. She deserved to know his reasons. It wasn't fair to seemingly reject a woman who had already been so publicly humiliated and tossed aside. She was worth much more than that.

"I was thinking that maybe I've gotten too complacent in my life. This place was only supposed to be temporary."

"So one kiss with me and you were ready to be done with this area forever? Nice."

Hermione began to close the heavy door in his face. Before she got very far, Rodolphus put his foot in the path. When she met with resistance and opened it back up, he stepped into the doorway. They were only inches apart. He longed to reach for her again, prove to her that the very last desire of his heart was to walk out the door again.

"I was afraid, Hermione. I've been alone for so long. I've forgotten how to be anything else."

It was the painful truth that he could no longer ignore. Before he could allow his mind to talk him out of continuing, he blurted out that he'd read every single newspaper that had been printed since the day she was forced to leave the Ministry. Red-faced and embarrassed, she lowered her eyes to her feet.

"Why would you do that?"

The rest of his story came bursting out of him in uncontrollable torrents. He told her about stopping in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and seeing the contemptible slug that was her soon-to-be ex-husband. How he couldn't stand to hear the words he was saying about her, how the newspapers were awful and full of lies. The Skeeter woman didn't deserve to speak Hermione's name.

"So I bought the paper."

Her watery eyes snapped up to meet his. Feeling confident, Rodolphus continued.

"I had Rita Skeeter sacked. All future articles that even _hint_ at your name have to be personally approved by me."

She was shocked. No words came out even when she opened and shut her mouth several times to try.

"And I may as well tell you the full truth."

His confession of the spell he sent straight to Ron Weasley's bollocks came tumbling out of his mouth. When he admitted that he shouldn't have let his temper get the better of him, Hermione reached for his collar and dragged him the rest of the way inside the cottage. She was already kissing him before the door closed shut.


	9. Week Two: Saturday - Sunday Morning

Week Two - Part Three

Hermione's boldness surprised her. Not that she was some sort of frigid, delicate flower who blushed and stammered at the very idea of sex. She just wasn't usually so quick to launch herself at a wizard. Her experiences outside of her marriage might have been painfully limited, but she wasn't completely useless. Maybe when the moment was over and she was thinking clearly again, she might feel a bit embarrassed. In that moment, however, she didn't care about propriety or well-brought up young women. She just wanted to feel the man's hands on her body, his lips on hers.

No one had ever made her feel more valued. _No one._ When he ran off, she had been utterly humiliated. Was she doomed to live a life constantly rejected by men she cared about? It was a depressing enough fear that she had been tempted to ignore the knock at her cottage door. She'd seen him return through the blasted kitchen window she couldn't stop staring out of. While she grew a bit excited at the thought that he was back, she was also quite angry with herself for thinking so.

When he admitted to buying the Daily Prophet simply because he didn't like how she was being written about, she didn't know what to say. It was a shock. Knowing how vicious Rita Skeeter was, she could only imagine how nasty the articles had gotten. Ron would never have done anything so drastic. He would've told her to stop reading the paper and just ignore her lies. That, of course, was much easier said than done. She was under no delusions that Skeeter would _not_ continue her vitriol from another less widely read publication, but the magnanimity of Rod's gesture was a bit overwhelming. Why was it so important to him that she not be insulted?

But, it was the admission he made about hexing Ron right in the wobbly bits he enjoyed cramming in random slags that proved what kind of man he was. She wanted to thank him for standing up for her when it seemed that no one else was. Words didn't feel adequate. Whether Rod was more surprised by her kiss or she was would be up for debate. It felt almost as if she was turning off her overactive brain and doing what _she_ wanted for a change.

The clang of the door shutting behind them could easily have been a daunting sound. If she didn't put a stop to what they were doing in that very second, they would just keep right on going to the bedroom. Or the sofa. Or the freezing hardwood floor. It didn't seem to matter to either of them where they went as long as they were still touching. The timidness that initially seemed to be a part of Rod's personality melted away with tock of the ticking clock. There was a boldness underneath his shy exterior that she found exhilarating.

As Rod's lips molded into hers and it became difficult to discern where she began and he ended, Hermione tried to push aside the frustrating thoughts that crept up. How long had it been since she'd felt such passion? They hadn't even removed any clothes at all and it was still the most exciting experience she'd had in far too long. Towards the end of her marriage, there had been very little touching at all. In fact, if she really wanted to put a number to it, at least eighteen months had passed since she felt any kind of spark with her husband. There had been a couple of half-hearted attempts to get each other off in the meantime, but neither of them had been successful. She didn't want thoughts of her failures to discolor what was shaping up to be one of her favorite moments.

"Are you all right?"

The four simple words that came from Rod's mouth took Hermione by surprise. He stopped what they were doing with an almost sheepish expression on his face. She feared that he was about to do what he had done days earlier when they'd first kissed on her sofa. Imagining him walking back out of the cottage in such a vulnerable moment made her feel the sting of rejection that had become so commonplace in her life. Dropping her eyes to the buttons on the front of his shirt, she prepared herself for the inevitable "we shouldn't be doing this" conversation that she knew would come.

Except it didn't. Awkward moment after awkward moment passed where neither of them spoke or resumed their previous affections. Hermione felt her eyes burn with unshed tears. She was humiliated yet again. Rod still had his arms wrapped around her waist. He hadn't relinquished control of her body. Looking up at him was a daunting task. She made the determination that if she looked up in his eyes and saw pity, she would push him away and leave the area immediately. If there was one emotion she never wanted to see in her potential lover's eyes, it was that.

Preparing herself for heartbreak, Hermione lifted her eyes with a false bravado she didn't feel at all. _Nothing_ about the man's light green eyes made her believe that he was feeling sorry for her. Absolutely nothing. He was worried, of course, but what she saw reflected back in those orbs of emotion was exactly what she was certain he was able to see in hers. There was fear and a desperation to not be pushed away. Was it possible that he was afraid every bit as much as she was that he would see pity or disgust reflected back at him? Something dreadful must have happened to the man, she decided.

They were both broken. That was obvious just by looking at them both. She didn't know all of the details of his life. Truthfully, she didn't want them. She knew enough to know that it had been bad. Without him providing much background, she knew that his wife had become a horrible woman over time. They had had losses and heartache. Just like she and Ron had. Maybe it was unfair to compare their marriages, she didn't know everything after all, but she couldn't help it. She and Rod were both cracked by the failures of their previous lives into a couple of misshapen beings desperately seeking for something or _someone_ to hold on to.

"Never better."

And she meant it too. The entirety of her relationship with Rod might end that afternoon. She wouldn't be surprised at all if they were too embarrassed when it reached its logical conclusion to not wish to see the other again. Sometimes being so vulnerable with another can poison any hope for any kind of longterm friendship. Though she _hoped_ that wasn't the case, Hermione knew that it was a possibility. They had to reach out with both hands to grab whatever they could while it lasted.

Taking him by the hand, she had to coax and pull him a couple of times before his feet would leave the spot they were firmly affixed to on the floor. Once inside the bedroom with the massive bed overtaking the entire room, she felt a little of her courage begin to slip. There was no question what was going to happen next. Much like the closing of the front door was a defining moment in their afternoon, the closing of the bedroom door was that much more so.

She hadn't been Sorted into Gryffindor for nothing. Remembering her courage, Hermione shut the door behind them, effectively sealing their fate for the rest of the afternoon. Or rather, she _hoped_ for the rest of the afternoon. Fate wouldn't be so cruel to drop a delicious gift like this in her lap only for it to last a few minutes, would it? She hoped not.

Rod's boldness from earlier returned with her definitive motion. His lips were back on hers in seconds. Never ceasing in his kisses that sent sparks through her veins all the way down to her toes, he took the lead to bring them both over to the imposing piece of furniture they had both dreamed about being in together, whether or not they would ever admit it. It felt strange to Hermione that neither one of them seemed in a rush to speed up the event. Ordinarily, she was ready for the act to be over as soon as it began. That wasn't a disparagement against her soon-to-be ex-husband's lovemaking abilities. It was more about her heart and desire to be a part of the process.

With Rod, she could've been content to lay on top of the coverlet, fully clothed, doing nothing but enjoying the feel of the man's lips and his hands for _hours_. Eventually, she was certain that she would explode if it didn't progress, but she was simply enjoying the moment, the experience of being alone with a man she was attracted to. He seemed to feel much the same way. Though bold enough to lay his body on top of hers, Rod wasn't ripping her clothes off in a frenzy and demanding they get to the good stuff. In Hermione's opinion, he was wishing to prolong their activities.

It had not occurred to her until that moment how painfully lonely the man with the soft lips and the gentle hands was. Much of his story was unknown. Her insatiable curiosity began to get the better of her. Was he feeling the same way that she was? Was he as nervous that something terrible was going to happen? The anxiety that always existed just below the surface began to rear its ugly head. Hermione feared that she was about to do something to embarrass herself, something she wouldn't be able to forgive herself for later. Sensing something had changed in his partner, Rod pulled his lips from hers. His body hovered over hers as he stared down into her face.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

It was a question Hermione wasn't sure she had an answer to. As much as she appreciated the wizard being aware, she wished he would just keep kissing her until she forgot to be nervous. When she tried to lean up to recapture his lips, Rod pulled back a few inches. He wasn't going to let her continue anything until he was certain that everything was all right. She fought the rising disappointment creeping up from her stomach. This wasn't going to be the afternoon she hoped it would be thanks to her stupid fears and worries. Why couldn't she ever just turn her brain off and just live in the moment? Live entirely off of feelings? She sighed.

"I'm nervous."

Though it was the complete truth, she wished she hadn't blurted out what she was thinking. He was going to think her bizarre. Likely he was already planning his abrupt exit. Running seemed to be something he was good at.

"It's been a long time since I… since…"

The embarrassing words just kept coming out of her mouth without her permission. If she hadn't already scared him off, she would with that admission. Nothing killed the mood quite like admitting that she had gone a long time without any sort of satisfaction. He probably thought her pathetic.

"For me too."

Just as she was about to give up hope that anything was going to happen, Rod's confession buoyed her spirits. A sheepish grin crossed his handsome features. Likely he was just as embarrassed as she. Hermione had a new appreciation for the man. Perhaps there was a reason why they ended up in cottages only meters from each other in the middle of nowhere. She didn't exactly believe in fate, but maybe she would allow that there was some sort of invisible force out there pushing the two lonely people together. They seemed to need each other.

"Somehow I doubt that."

She wasn't sure why she was teasing him. If he had done the same to her, she might have crumpled up into some sad, little ball and wished for death. Teasing an attractive single man about not believing that he hadn't been with a woman in a while was somehow less painful than saying the same words to a woman on the verge of divorce. Thankfully, he took the words in the spirit it was intended. Hermione liked him most when he laughed.

"It's not something I'm terribly proud to report, but I'm afraid it's the truth."

"Maybe you shouldn't keep yourself hidden away from everyone in the world then."

A flicker of emotion dimmed his smile. She wasn't sure what was wrong about what she'd said exactly, but Hermione suddenly wished she hadn't said it. He tried to brush it off with another laugh and a voiced concern that he would be complete rubbish. Understanding that he wanted to move on from whatever strange moment they were having, she tried again to distract him with a kiss.

There were no further interruptions, no more concerns that they shouldn't be doing what they were doing.

* * *

If anyone had told Rodolphus that morning before he left London that he would be waking up from an early evening nap with a beautiful, naked woman in his arms, he would have laughed in their face. Perhaps even suggested they take a trip to St. Mungo's. There seemed to be no possible way that the enchanting creature snuggled up next to him would have ever invited him into her bed. As much as he prided himself on being an intelligent wizard who could see all possibilities ahead of him, he was glad to be wrong.

They committed acts over the course of several hours that might have made him blush in another time. Part of him would always feel like nothing more than a dirty, old man in her presence, but she had an bewitching manner of making him forget his fears. He didn't want to imagine that a time would come when she would look at him in disgust. It was painful to think about. The very moment that she knew who he was, she would run, and he wouldn't blame her. He wouldn't even try to stop her. What right did he have to force her into such a life?

He was a selfish man. Of that, there was no doubt. It was wrong to keep up the deception he had been. The pain she felt when he ran off to London would be that much worse now that they'd done more than just kiss. A _lot_ more than just kiss. If he was going to be damned, at least he had one blissful afternoon that he could hold in his memory. No one could take that from him.

She seemed so fragile and delicate when she was asleep. Rodolphus knew that he could spend the rest of his life enjoying the presence of the enchanting creature. He didn't deserve her, though. She certainly didn't deserve _him,_ either. In the long run, he would bring her nothing but sorrow and heartache. Remaining with her, trying to pretend like there was hope that any of that could change was a foolish fantasy he needed to let go. Somehow he had to figure out how he could end whatever it was that was happening between them without breaking her spirit. Maybe it would be better if he just came right out and admitted his true identity. At least that way, she would have a valid reason to run.

Only the feel of a gentle hand running across his bare chest had the capability of tearing him away from his increasingly depressing thoughts. The goddess he had been fortunate enough to touch had woken up. He wanted to enjoy the moments they had left together. There would not be another opportunity with her again. Not if she knew the truth. And she _had_ to know the truth. It was wrong to keep that from her. Keeping her in the dark about who he was and the horrific past he could lay claim to was deceitful and wrong. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself for what he was doing if he remained silent.

"Having regrets?"

What a preposterous question! Rodolphus clutched her hand in his, brought it up to his lips and kissed it. When he met her eyes, he could see the terror in there that he longed to banish. She was terrified that he had somehow managed to discover some reason to regret their unbelievable afternoon. It saddened him that a beautiful woman so young could have such fear. The Weasley arsehole didn't deserve to breathe the same air she did.

"Of course not."

He sealed his assurance with a kiss. It was over before it really began, but she seemed satisfied in his answer. Hermione laid her head on his chest.

"I'm old enough to be your father."

A giggle and a press of her lips to his flesh was his response. Clearly, she wasn't bothered by the gap in their ages. Part of being a witch or a wizard meant that they each could look forward to well over a hundred years of health. Age gaps didn't mean as much to them as it would if they were both Muggles. It was still a concern to Rodolphus. Not only was he a fugitive Death Eater with no prospects for a future beyond hiding in a cottage in the middle of the country, he felt lecherous every time he even thought about the girl. If _any_ of his children had lived, they would have been older than she. It was a sobering thought and did nothing positive for his self-esteem.

"Perhaps I've been wasting my life chasing after young boys who don't deserve me."

"Of that, I'm certain."

She laughed again. He knew he would never grow tired of hearing that sound. If fate wasn't such a cruel mistress, maybe he would have been given the opportunity to hear it for the rest of his miserable life. Rodolphus tried to banish the thoughts with a shake of his head. There was no use in worrying about the 'what-ifs' when they were nothing but 'never could-bes'.

"Are _you_ having regrets?"

The question fell from his tongue before he could stop it. Did he really want to hear the answer? _Probably not_. It was too late to take it back. Instead of speaking the world aloud, Hermione's answer to the question was to slide the length of her body against his and kiss him until he couldn't even remember what he'd asked in the first place. In fact, _all_ of his concerns over the events of the afternoon were forgotten.

Their activities might have escalated to another pleasurable climax if the scratching at the front door hadn't been so bloody loud. Rodolphus tried to ignore it, tried to keep his frustration that they were about to be interrupted to himself. When Hermione broke the kiss to listen, he failed to reclaim her attention with another kiss. The tiny, obnoxious bark that met their ears brought a smile to her face.

"Sounds like someone isn't happy that you're in here and she's not."

"Millie is young. She will have to learn at some point to live with disappointment."

Her giggle and a push of her hand against his chest stopped any further affection. It seemed that _he_ was the one that had that lesson to relearn. He laid his head back down on the soft pillow with a groan.

"We can't leave her out there, Rod. It's freezing."

"She has a coat."

A playful swat to his chest was her response. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of leaving his puppy with the terrible timing out in the snow, he threw the warm covers off of his bare body and set his feet on the floor. The intoxicating sound of Hermione's laughter followed him out of the room. Even he had to admit that the appreciative manner in which she admired his body made him feel a bit more confident than usual. He continued to try to press the nagging thoughts in his mind that he wouldn't be able to experience all of this in the future out of his mind.

Millie sat in front of the cottage with a scowl on her tiny face. How she managed to get out of his cottage at all was a mystery to Rodolphus. He thought he had her safe and secure inside their home before he walked next door to make his apologies for leaving so abruptly. Clearly he was dealing with some sort of escape artist. She was growing smarter with each passing day. He would have to keep a closer eye on her.

Without waiting for permission to enter, the puppy ran across the threshold into the warmth of the cottage. She headed straight for the bedroom, leaving him standing in the doorway entirely exposed to the elements outdoors. Rodolphus rolled his eyes and followed the same path that the little beast had. Hermione's laughter continued at the sight of his puppy trying, and failing, to climb into the bed.

"No, Millie."

His tone was firm, but not unkind. There was a reason for rules. She needed to learn the proper way to behave at her young age. Otherwise, he would have a much more difficult time attempting to correct her behavior when she was older. Upset by the gentle admonishment, Millie fell back on her hind legs to whine. It truly was a pitiful sound. When Rodolphus returned to the side of the bed that he'd just vacated, he was met with another disappointed female staring at him with a pitiful expression marring her own beauty. Rolling his eyes and realizing that he would not be able to win between the two of them, he bent over to scoop up the puppy with one hand. Excited to be on the bed, Millie ran around in circles until Hermione reached out to pet her.

"It's not fair, you two teaming up on me like that."

Hermione only laughed again. Even he had to admit a few minutes later when they were all three snuggled up in the warm bed together that it was nice to bend the rules just a little bit. With Millie happily settled between the two of them asleep, he could see the appeal of spending lazy days just like they were. His concerns from earlier were pushed to the back of his mind. He could worry about what he was going to do next later.

"Where's Orville?"

As much as he hated lying to the woman next to him, Rodolphus knew he couldn't tell her the truth. If he did, she would be angry, and rightfully so, about the number of times he approached her in his animagus form. It had been inappropriate. One more reason why he should pack up and leave the area for good. She deserved better than someone who would continually lie.

"He's probably out roaming. Never content to just sit at home."

"I don't think I've ever seen the two of you together at the same time."

Rodolphus could feel his heart leap into his throat. Was she putting the pieces together? Should he pick up his discarded clothing and make a run for it before it was too late?

"I'm beginning to wonder if Millie is the only dog of yours that actually likes you."

She was teasing him. A grin on her lips proved that she wasn't close to figuring out his secret. Relaxing only slightly, he laughed a little too loudly and gave some half-hearted response about it being difficult for him to compete with her for Orville's affections. He really hated lying.

* * *

Few days in Hermione's life were likely to stick out in her memory like the previous day. Though it had started off an a decidedly sour note, it had ended in a far better manner than she could have dreamed. Not content to just spend the afternoon in bed together, they had hardly moved from underneath the blankets all night long. When they grew too hungry to remain in the bedroom, they'd reluctantly gotten dressed long enough for Rod to make them dinner. Her contribution to the meal had been a bottle of wine that they drank in front of the fireplace.

Her cheeks burned at the thought of what happened on the rug when the bottle of wine was empty. She had been pleasantly surprised by the man's stamina and enthusiasm. It was almost as if he was trying to get as much as he could in a single day. Or perhaps he was still feeling guilty about running away after their first kiss that he was simply trying to make it up to her. She wasn't likely to complain about it either way.

At some point in the night, Rod rolled away from behind her back. She was surprised to discover that the loss of his touch was such a disappointment. It wasn't as if she had grown used to feeling a man spooned up behind her when she was sleeping. No, her husband had long ago stopped touching her full stop. That wasn't exactly a complaint. She had done as much as she could to discourage Ron's manhandling towards the end.

Wishing to reclaim some of the warmth her companion was denying her by being so far away, Hermione rolled over on to her side to move closer. She was careful in her movements. He seemed so peaceful in his sleep that she didn't want to disturb him. She snuggled up to his chest just under his right arm. Sensing she was nearby, he wrapped his arm around her back but did not wake. A sliver of light from the rising sun shown through the bedroom window straight into his closed eyes. Rod groaned and covered his sensitive eyes with the back of his left wrist, leaving the inside of his forearm readily exposed.

She had seen the shimmer of the glamour on his arm the day before, but did not think much of it. There were lots of reasons why people chose to cover up their skin with magic. Maybe he had an unattractive mole he didn't want her to see. Or a scar that was ugly. He could have had his late wife's name tattooed on his skin. That was enough of a reason to feel awkward and cover it. The problem with glamours was they were easy to discern and only temporary. If one didn't continually reapply them, they would melt away to reveal what they were trying to hide.

Like his faded Dark Mark. Though it had been many years since she'd last seen one, she knew them well enough to know what they were. There was no way to rationally deny the fact that she was naked in bed with a former Death Eater. How could she have been so foolish? She hadn't demanded to know more about the man before she willingly dragged him into her bedroom. What was she thinking?

His odd behavior over the previous weeks suddenly made sense. He wasn't just a man who liked to be alone. He was a man who _had_ to be alone. If anyone with any amount of authority knew who he was, he would be taken immediately to Azkaban. Everyone with Lord Voldemort's Mark on their arm was serving a life sentence in the notorious prison for their crimes.

She could've cursed herself as the pieces began to slip into place. A proper Pureblood wizard who grew up with house-elves. A horrible wife named Trixie. There was a reason why he always seemed familiar to her even when she couldn't understand why. Over the years she had seen his face countless times in the newspaper. He might have been thinner than he used to be and the grizzled beard that covered his face was gone, but she knew exactly who the man lying next to her actually was.

* * *

Waking up to the feel of a woman next to him was something that Rodolphus felt certain he would never get used to. As much as he might like to, he knew it was a fantasy he needed to push out of his mind. Before he opened his eyes and faced the reality of the day, he wanted just a few more minutes with the remarkable witch by his side. He wrapped his right arm around her and moved his other arm over his eyes to keep out the light for just another minute or two.

Hermione's entire body tensed. A soft gasp startled him enough to open his eyes. Had something happened? He couldn't begin to imagine what might be wrong. Her eyes were firmly affixed to his arm. Immediately afraid that he hadn't reapplied the glamour before falling asleep, Rodolphus pulled his arm off of his face and stared down at the hated symbol of the follies of his youth. There was no adequate lie to tell that would explain away what she had so clearly seen.

"When were you planning on telling me that you're Rodolphus Lestrange?"


	10. Week Three

Week Three

All of the signs had been there from the moment she met the reclusive man. How could she miss them? Or, did she simply not wish to see them? Hermione knew he had a secret. Her overactive imagination fashioned him into some tragic romantic figure without even bothering to learn all of the facts first.

Rod… no, _Rodolphus_ should have been shivering in an Azkaban cell, not warm and _naked_ in her bed. One of the most notorious of all of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters, she didn't even understand how he was still alive. No one had seen or heard from him in years. Not since the night Harry was moved to the Burrow and a battle raged in the sky. His niece Tonks claimed she knocked him off his broom. When he wasn't seen again during the war or in the chaos when it was over, it was assumed he was dead, his body lost forever.

Hermione sat up, pulling the blankets tightly around her trembling body. Never had she felt so completely vulnerable or exposed. The things they had done… her cheeks burned with the shame. She had been foolish to invite a man into her bed without knowing who he truly was first. He hadn't even told her his last name!

The _Death Eater_ stared at her, unblinking, unmoving, not even trying to sit up from his lounging position. Like helpless wildlife caught in a Muggle's head lamps. No doubt he was waiting for the curses to his bollocks from her wand or the slaps to his face from her hand.

"How did you..?"

"Are you going to deny that you're actually Rodolphus Lestrange?"

She hardly recognized the chilling tone coming out of her mouth as belonging to her. Certainly she'd never heard it before. Not even when struggling with the frustration that was her husband.

"I see no reason to deny the truth."

Maybe it would've been easier for both of them if he lied about his identity. Not only would it give her the opportunity to delude herself into believing she hadn't committed such acts with a known murderer and it would have been less confusing all around. Death Eaters weren't exactly known for their honesty, were they? Hermione was having trouble reconciling the gentle, quiet man who loved dogs and who was painfully shy with madwoman Bellatrix Lestrange's husband. How was it possible that the man who could so carefully cradle a pure, innocent being like Millie in his arms could also be a part of torturing two people into insanity?

She couldn't bear to sit another moment in the same bed with the monster. Dragging most of the bedcovers off with her, Hermione rose to her feet. A startled Millie slipped to the floor in a puddle of blankets. Yipping at the indignity, the puppy laid down in the midst of the fabric shielding Hermione's nakedness from the wizard still lying as if frozen. Frustrated, she dropped the blankets and rushed into the bathroom for a bathrobe and a few moments to catch her breath.

What was she supposed to do next? Logic would tell her that she needed to stupefy the man or figure out some manner in which to restrain him and call the aurors. Harry would be there in a second if she told him. But, for a reason she couldn't quite understand, she didn't want to. At least not yet. If he was still such a dangerous murderer, wouldn't he have tried to hurt her by then? Even with plenty of opportunity, all he'd done was hurt feelings and injure her pride. And he had already tried to atone for that. The repeated apologies he made and pleas for forgiveness while his face had been buried between her thighs _had_ been fairly convincing.

She shook her head to dislodge those thoughts from her mind. The last thing she needed was to let her hormones and memories of the delicious flick of his tongue distract her from the very serious problem at hand. There was no way she could just ignore what she'd discovered. Not even if the man had a sad remorsefulness to him that seemed to indicate a life filled with regrets. Her life might not have been as long as his, but she could recognize a kindred spirit. Given the opportunity, they would both go back in time to make different choices.

"Don't be _ridiculous_ , Granger."

Her mind reeled from the revelations of the previous few minutes. Ignoring that she was still quite naked, she stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, seeking answers of what she needed to do next. Could she just conveniently forget what she learned because he'd shown himself to be so kind and warm in her short time at the cottages? The urge to seek out some resolution that didn't involve the man being dragged off to Azkaban was strong. Had lack of proper sex for so long addled her brain to the point where she was incapable of making good decisions?

Nothing was going to be resolved hiding in the bathroom. Dressing in her fluffy bathrobe, she took a deep breath before stepping back into the bedroom. Rodolphus was seated on the edge of the bed, facing the door she just walked out of. In her absence he'd had the presence of mind to get dressed. At least there wouldn't be the distraction of too much bare flesh on display when they had the discussion that needed to happen.

She didn't know where to sit. Joining him on the bed felt too familiar. Spending a lazy day and night with him had been more incredible than she imagined it would be. Even all of those days trying to catch a glimpse of him through his kitchen window hadn't prepared her for what it actually felt like to be with him. If he hadn't turned out to be a secret Death Eater in hiding, she would've looked forward to many more days like that. Maybe even for _years_ to come. But, his unglamoured Dark Mark had to go and ruin a perfectly good Sunday morning. In order to prevent getting too comfortable and sending a message she didn't intend, Hermione kept to her feet. Besides, it would be easier to run out of there if she was standing.

"Were you planning on ever telling me who you really were?"

Rodolphus sighed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned his entire body forward. Far from being a dominant position, he was making himself seem as non-threatening as possible. She found it strange that even knowing who he was, she didn't feel frightened to be around him. Shocked, yes. Angry, absolutely. But not afraid. Of course, she thought it was probably difficult to be terrified of someone when she'd ripped her own knickers in the rush to get them off.

"I never planned on getting close enough to you that my true identity would matter."

It was Hermione's turn to sigh. _That_ was why he'd run off the morning after they kissed. Not because he was regretting his actions or because she was unlovable and disgusting. In his own way, he was trying to spare her the inevitable backlash that knowing who he truly was would bring. Hurting her and embarrassing her in the moment was how he planned to protect her.

Except he couldn't stay away. That was what she struggled to understand. Why would he come back to a place where he could knowingly expose his secret? It made little sense. What was so important that he couldn't just walk away and stay gone?

* * *

He should have never come back. Why did he do it? He was almost free and yet, he gave up a chance to continue his life in secret for what? The chance to show off to a witch young enough to be his daughter? If he'd truly done what he did for selfless reasons, he wouldn't have come back to brag to the enchantress about buying the Daily Prophet and hexing her horrible husband. No, everything he'd done had been for purely _selfish_ reasons. Though he never expected her reaction would be to pull him inside to her bedroom, he certainly wasn't going to complain about it. And yet one more time in his life that thinking with his trousers got him into serious trouble.

"That's why you ran off the other morning."

Only a nod of his head was his answer. He didn't trust himself yet. If he wasn't careful, he was apt to do something truly humiliating, like beg her for her silence. There was never a question whether or not he would hurt the fascinating creature. If she called for the aurors, he would go quietly. It was what he deserved after all. One couldn't go through their lives without being expected to pay for their crimes. He would never deny that he was once a Death Eater. Never deny that he wasn't there when those poor souls were tortured into insanity. Not a day went by that he didn't hear their screams or regret the waste of their lives.

"You disappeared after the night we moved Harry with polyjuice potion."

Another nod.

"Where did you go?"

She had him cornered in a trap he didn't know how to get out of. To tell the complete truth would reveal his _other_ secret and he wasn't prepared to share that yet. Somehow that was an even larger breach of trust than his past allegiance to the Dark Lord. He'd seen her naked before she'd given him permission, slept in her bed without her knowing what he really was. Sighing in resignation, Hermione gave him an out.

"You can't tell me because that would betray those you kept you hidden."

Rodolphus nodded again. It was a partial truth. Of course, to be fair, Rosmerta didn't know the stray dog she gave a home to was actually a fugitive Death Eater. She would be more surprised than anyone to discover that fact. Being a firsthand observer of how she treated the men she believed betrayed her, he didn't like his chances against Rosmerta. He had been a witness to her own private moments and encounters. Nothing but a dirty old dog, he was.

"I guess that explains why you prefer to keep yourself hidden."

To his surprise, she moved to sit down on the bed next to him. There was still a great deal of empty space between them, but it was a start. Maybe it was a sign that all was not lost. At least she hadn't screamed and run away to alert the authorities. Perhaps he could also count that as a small victory. If he could somehow encourage her to not turn him in immediately, there might be hope after all that he would make it out of the pickle he created for himself.

"I know your crimes, Lestrange."

The use of his surname instead of his first hurt him more profoundly than the content of her statement. She was distancing herself from him. He didn't like it, not one bit. From the moment he laid eyes on her, crying on the front steps of her cottage, he wanted nothing more than to get _closer._ A ridiculous notion, under the circumstances, but one he desired nonetheless.

"You would be locked up in Azkaban in a second if anyone knew you lived here."

His ears perked up and his spirits buoyed slightly. This wasn't the sound of someone about to turn him in. Was it possible that she was considering ignoring the truth of his real identity? Perhaps, she could even look past… no, no, he shook his head. Even assuming that she _could_ forget what a monster he was, he couldn't. He tainted and ruined everything and everyone he touched. If he wasn't such a bloody coward, he'd hand Millie over to Hermione's keeping and drown himself in the nearest lake. No, he needed to take her reluctance to reveal his whereabouts as the gift that it was. Best not to get carried away. He should just pack up and do exactly what he'd already planned to do.

"Did you know that Nymphadora Tonks was a friend of mine?"

Whatever he expected her to say next, that certainly wasn't it. With his eyes wide, he turned to face her head-on. Why would she bring _her_ up? It all seemed so random. When he learned the fate of poor Andromeda's girl, he'd been gutted. There had been a time when he was a part of Dromeda's life, part of her family. She hadn't run off with her Muggle-born until Rodolphus had been engaged to Trixie for a few years. She had always been the favorite of his in-laws. When she was no longer allowed to be a part of their family, he'd mourned the loss. Though he never knew her daughter, he mourned her loss as well. She was his niece, no matter what the Black family tapestry had to say about it.  
"She told me a curious story when we were alone that night after Harry was safe and we learned that Mad-Eye was dead."

Rodolphus felt his stomach twist into knots. He could only imagine what she was about to reveal. So much of what happened that night had been a blur. Bits and pieces of it remained in his memory, but not the whole picture. Maybe he didn't _want_ to know.

"She told me that your wife seemed determined to kill her that night. Wanted to make it painful even. Tonks said that Bellatrix shouted over and over again how she was going to knock her off her broom. I imagine falling from such a great height would be infinitely more painful than a simple killing curse."

The pounding of his heart in his ears drowned out much of what she said. He had a suspicion that he knew where she was taking her tale. If he was correct, his actions would take a great deal more explaining than he was prepared to offer. Some actions were better left undisturbed, unanalyzed.

"Tonks claimed that her aunt was almost successful. A spell came hurtling at her that would've no doubt knocked her off her broom, perhaps even killing Ron at the same time. At the last second, just before it made impact, _you_ flew in front of it. _You_ saved her by taking the curse meant for her."

It was the least he could do. Stopping Trixie when she had her mind set to something was damn near impossible. He'd learned that lesson countless times over years of an unhappy marriage. His act of taking the curse meant for Dromeda's girl was unexpected, done only in the very last moments without thought. The loss of a life at such a young age was a tragedy to be avoided at all cost. He only wished he'd been able to do something to prevent her end months later at the final battle. By the time he heard the news from the safety of his rug in front of the fire at The Three Broomsticks, it was too late.

"You saved her life."

He stood to his feet, unable to look at her any longer. The walls of the room seemed to be closing in around him. If he didn't get out into some fresh air soon, he feared he might go mad or suffocate. He wasn't sure what her point was exactly. Saving one person in the midst of battle didn't exactly clear his slate of all of the other wrongdoings he'd committed in his life.

"Because of what you did for Tonks that day, I wouldn't feel right turning you in."

The words were spoken in hardly a whisper. If he hadn't had excellent hearing thanks to his animagus form, it was likely that Rodolphus wouldn't have even heard her utter them at all. Was she really going to let him go after discovering his true identity? Could one person be that genuinely compassionate? Very few people in his life had ever shown him any true kindness. It was difficult to accept. He would do what he could to prove himself worthy of the generosity. First, he knew that he had to walk away. The longer he stayed in her presence, the harder it would be to leave, and she deserved better than him. Deserved more than the stench that further association with him would leave upon her soul. He would cherish the afternoon and night they had together for as long as he lived, but that would be it.

"Thank you, Hermione. I think it best, under the circumstances, that I take my leave from you."

Whistling to Millie to get her to follow, he rushed out of the bedroom that had been the scene of so many blissful hours such a short time earlier. Words seemed too inadequate. He wouldn't have known what to say even if he tried. She didn't follow him or call to him to stop. Only when he was outside in the crisp winter air was he able to take a deep breath again.

* * *

By the following Saturday morning, Hermione hadn't seen a single clue to indicate that Rodolphus was still living in the cottage near hers except for the plume of smoke that continuously rose from the chimney. Since the Sunday morning that had gone so terribly wrong, she had been tempted many times to cross the short distance to the matching cottage to make certain that he still existed within its walls. Each time she stepped towards the front door, she stopped herself. What good would it do to forge any kind of friendship or relationship with the reclusive man? The mystery had been replaced with a reality that she didn't know what to do with.

She hadn't been lying to him when she told him that she didn't feel right about turning him in after sacrificing his life for the daughter of his disgraced sister-in-law. Up until the moment that they were both seated on the bed, she hadn't even recalled Tonks' story about that night for years. What seemed like such an inconsequential, yet unbelievable, fact of that night might have saved the simple life he'd built for himself following the war. Stealing his second chance didn't sit well within her gut.

Not once had she felt frightened in the man's presence. Priding herself on having an excellent judge of character, Hermione had yet to feel threatened. It was only a series of innocent moments that even allowed their paths to cross. _She_ had been the pushy one. Left up to his own devices, they probably would've never even spoken. If he was still a danger to society, wouldn't he have tried to do something by then? He had plenty of opportunity. Not even when she was naked and underneath the crush of his larger body did she worry that he would harm her. Surely this was a man whose remorse and regret had shaped into a different person. At least that's what she tried to convince herself of every time she stopped to reconsider whether or not letting him continue to live outside of Azkaban was right or wrong.

After almost a week of seeing nothing of the man or either of his dogs, she was growing restless of being cooped up inside the cottage. She could only stand at the kitchen window hoping to see his shadow cross the glass so many times before she went absolutely mad. Deciding that a walk to the village would do her some good, she bundled up into her warmest coat and headed down the path.

Her time away from the Ministry and from her husband had been a good idea. Even she had to admit that Kingsley was correct in his assertion that she required a long break before she was fit to return to polite society again. Though it had been difficult in the beginning to see the appeal of such an existence, after three weeks in Sada Shafiq's country cottage, she was beginning to understand why Rodolphus hadn't fled the country at first chance. A simple life seemed infinitely better than the stress and overwork she'd known working in London. The exhausting thirst to prove herself worthy of being a witch to those who would condemn her for her heritage had taken its toll.

She kept her head down all the way to the village. There was a great deal on her mind. With her forced sabbatical half-over, she needed to start thinking about what she was going to do next. Hiding in the countryside sounded lovely, but it was impractical. She couldn't keep running from her problems. Taking a break from them for a little while was perfectly acceptable as long as she _eventually_ returned.

Her marriage with Ron needed to be officially absolved. It was a pity too. They'd both started off with so much hope for the future. Perhaps that had been the problem. Neither of them were truly over the events of their adolescence, especially the last few years. Rushing into marriage had been foolish. They loved each other certainly. It just, unfortunately, wasn't the _right_ kind of love to keep a marriage sustained. Maybe if they hadn't tried to find solace in the other person, they would've been able to at least remain friends. That hardly seemed like an option. Each of them had done their damndest to hurt the other. It was long past time to cut their losses and run.

The stillness of the sleepy village provided ample time to continue her deep thinking as she moved through the streets. A break in the weather meant that no new snow had fallen in days, but the temperature was still quite low. Hermione loved the cold weather. Seemed fitting with the way her life had been going. She took her time going from shop to shop looking at everything they had to offer. As much as she usually loathed meandering about with no set purpose in mind, she had a great deal of time to kill and little options. Staying hunkered down in her temporary home wouldn't be a suitable solution forever.

By midday, she had done all of the shopping that she desired. The charming village boasted of a small cafe in the center. Hermione tried to forget the visit she'd made there once before when she didn't know the man seated across the table from her was actually a Death Eater. Strange how much could change in such a very short time. Not wishing to revisit those memories any longer, she took a seat at the counter, far away from the table they shared.

"This seat taken?"

Hermione looked up from the bowl of soup she'd been enjoying to face the man who belonged to the voice. She didn't recognize him, but he seemed harmless enough. A small smile and a wave to the chair with her hand encouraged the stranger to sit down. There were other open chairs up and down the counter. Asking to sit next to her was a deliberate move on the man's part. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or annoyed.

"That any good?"

He gestured to her bowl. With a shrug of her shoulders, she explained she'd had worse. His smile was infectious. Not exactly handsome in what one might call the most conventional of ways, the Muggle had kind eyes and an openness about him that she found comforting. At least it was more so than the guarded man she'd recently been spending time with. While she finished up her meal and he waited for his to arrive, they passed the time in simple conversation about nothing of any great value or importance.

It felt good to be normal again. The man didn't know who she was. He wasn't watching her for some scrap of information that he could use to his advantage or sell to the papers. There was no way he could have even known she was famous. In his world, she was just another woman eating alone in a cafe. Bit pathetic, really. Hardly the actions of the Chosen One's best friend and traveling companion. More than a few times over the course of their conversation she thought perhaps dating Muggles would be a good idea. At least then she wouldn't have to worry that they would one day reveal they were fugitive Death Eaters.

* * *

It was creepy that he knew exactly how long she'd been gone from her cottage. Rodolphus knew that. He wished he wasn't aware of what time it had been when she walked out of the front door bundled up for a walk into the village. Staring out the window at her was just wrong.

But he couldn't help it. For the better part of a week, he had tried and failed repeatedly not to think about the girl next door. It seemed simple enough to accomplish until his devious, filthy mind remembered how she felt shuddering around him, panting for more. Or how she tasted and the passion that she threw herself into everything she did. He was a dirty, old dog who should've long ago been put out of his misery, but he still couldn't stop staring at the path he knew she disappeared down exactly three hours and forty-seven minutes earlier.

He'd spent the time apart trying to determine what his next move should be. Staying so close to someone who not only knew exactly who he was but had extremely powerful friends wasn't smart. Perhaps she wasn't tempted to turn him in _yet_. There was still time later for her to change her mind. Human beings were fickle creatures and entirely unpredictable. If he was smart, he would pack everything up again and leave. Of course, the cottage _was_ paid up through the end of February and it did seem an awful waste of money to just leave it early. Hope still remained that he might be able to stay right where he was _and_ resume a friendship at least with Hermione. His father had been correct to call him a sentimental fool.

Unable to remain inside the confining walls of the cottage, Rodolphus stepped outside for fresh air. Millie didn't even stir from the bed in front of the fireplace where she was asleep. Growing up was a tiring business. She spent most of the day dead to the world. Her master's sudden exit through the front door didn't even bother her. Life hadn't taught her yet that living was full of disappointments. Those lessons would come later and frequently.

Against his better judgement, he found his feet carrying him down the same path towards the village. It was silly to try to orchestrate an accidental meeting, even subconsciously. If he wanted to have words with her and spend any amount of time with her, he needed to gather his strength and just do it. Once upon a time he had confidence. Surely he could uncover it again.

He was only a few steps down the path when he heard the sound of her laughter. It was an unmistakable noise that never failed to put a smile on his lips. In his opinion, she didn't laugh nearly often enough. If he had his desires, she would spend every single day laughing. Feeling more confident about rushing out to meet her, Rodolphus sped up his pace. Just a few more steps and he heard the voices. She wasn't alone. A scowl marred his features when he picked a decidedly masculine tone out of the air. Not only was she not by herself, but she was walking towards her cottage with a man.

There was only one thing he could do to satisfy his curiosity. It was always possible that he was misinterpreting what he was hearing. Quickly, before anyone could see him, Rodolphus transformed into his animagus form. As a friendly, fluffy dog, no one felt threatened by his presence. He would be able to go anywhere he wished.

"I told you it wasn't necessary to walk me back. I knew the way."

"Nonsense. Any man who gives up the chance to accompany a pretty girl on a beautiful day like today is an idiot."

Jealousy stirred within Rodolphus' fuzzy breast. The bits and pieces of the conversation he was able to pick up as he ran towards them didn't sound innocent. It might have been a long time since he had a proper courtship of a young lady, but he knew the sound of flirtation when he heard it. Whoever the creature was, he wanted more than just a polite discussion with _his_ witch.

"No, I insist on leaving you here. I know for a _fact_ that you don't live up this path."

"All right, all right. You got me. I just wasn't in a hurry to end our afternoon. I've been enjoying our conversation."

The Saint Bernard was close enough to the couple on the path that he could see them even if they weren't yet aware of his presence. He didn't know the man. Muggle, most likely. Never seen him before. By the way he was leering at Hermione and how close he was standing to her, he knew he wasn't just going to walk away at her request.

"How about dinner tomorrow night? In the village?"

Her hesitation to commit rose Rodolphus' spirits just a bit. Though she didn't appear too distressed by the close proximity of the man, she wasn't overly eager to accept his invitation either. She seemed to be searching for a polite way to brush the Muggle's request off. The instant his hand touched Hermione's arm, he felt the urge to rip out his throat. How dare he be so bold! Not caring that he would be seen if he moved closer, the dog bounced towards them both. The cretin had the audacity to squeeze the witch's arm and lean in closer to her like he was going to try to steal a kiss.

If _anyone_ was going to kiss Hermione, it was going to be Rodolphus. His sudden appearance made them both jump in fright. She laughed, but the Muggle didn't find anything amusing about the deep growl emanating from the back of the large dog's throat. His wide eyes proved his fear. Rodolphus used the moment of uncertainty to his advantage by placing his body between theirs. A gentle press against Hermione encouraged her to walk towards the cottages and away from the man who wasn't worthy of her time. She allowed him to herd her away from her would-be assailant. Did he even _ask_ her if it was all right to kiss her first?

"Looks like someone is anxious to get me home," Hermione said, her voice full of laughter. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Andrew. Thank you for walking with me."

To ensure the man had no intention of following them up the path to home, Rodolphus opened his mouth wide enough to show him all of his sharp teeth. Evidently not a fan of dogs, the _boy_ Andrew watched them disappear up the path without following. The sound of her amused laughter accompanied them all of the way back to the cottages.

"Thank you for rescuing me back there, Orville."

She leaned over to scratch behind his ears, right in the very place he loved most. He felt his eyes closing with the pleasure. When she approached the front steps to her cottage, she sat down on them in the exact spot she had that first day when she'd cried into his fur. Not wishing to let a moment pass him by to offer additional comfort, he followed to sit next to her.

"He seemed a nice enough bloke, but I'm not ready for that."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Her hands never ceased their rub of his fur. If that was as close to being back in bed with her as he was going to get, Rodolphus gladly enjoyed every moment.

"I've missed you. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

Whining, he looked up into her eyes with the most pitiful expression he knew how to make as a dog. Far from being depressed, Hermione only laughed and kissed his right on the end of his snout.

"I miss your master too, but don't tell him I said so."

His ears perked up at her confession.

"I'd like to see him again, but I'm not sure it's possible to move past what he used to be."

There was more to what she wanted to say, he was certain. It was easy to tell that she was holding back. Unburdening one's self to a sympathetic canine had its limitations after all. Rising to her feet, Hermione opened the front door. Gesturing with her head, she extended a nonverbal invitation to join her inside. When he didn't budge, she smiled.

"Come inside, if you want. It's cold out here. We can snuggle on the couch in front of the fire."

Rodolphus longed for nothing more than the simple pleasure she was offering. He couldn't accept no matter how much he wished he could. It didn't feel right. He couldn't keep lying to her and betraying her trust. With a final whine, he ran off into the woods behind the cottage.


	11. Week Four

Week Four

Another quiet week in the empty cottage passed for Hermione. She was lonely, even more so than she was when she first arrived so many weeks earlier. To have found a friendship that developed into more ripped away from her long before she was ready was nothing less than cruel. Reality could be a hateful bitch at times. When she was alone with Rodolphus, she felt more at peace than she had in years.

Dwelling on what could not be was threatening to drive her completely mad. Frigid temperatures and another snowstorm kept her inside to do nothing but think. She tried to reclaim some of the joy and relaxation she found in the beginning days of her forced sabbatical by taking long, hot bubble baths and napping longer than any single person should. It didn't help. Nothing removed the thoughts and disappointments from her mind. Not even the bottle of wine she found herself consuming alone each night as she sat on her empty sofa in front of the fireplace trying and failing to ignore the memories of the night they first kissed.

Slipping under the covers in the bed they shared for those too-few hours was also difficult. If she hadn't had the benefit of the wine clouding her thoughts just enough that she could fall asleep into her tumultuous, unfulfilling dream world, she felt certain that she would never be able to spend more than a minute or two in bed. Not when she could still feel the brush of his bare skin against hers, his lips on hers, his body working in rhythm with hers. She was foolish to remain in the cottage after everything that happened.

Her main problem with leaving her temporary refuge, however, was she had nowhere else to go. Options were limited. If she tried to go back to the home she shared with her husband, she would have to face Ron again. She wasn't ready to do that. Part of her wasn't convinced that she would _ever_ be ready to do that. There was so much history between them that when they finally had to be in the same room together again, it was going to be ugly. Completely dissolving her marriage was a task she was not looking forward to. As much as she was ready to move on with her life, severing that tie with her husband would mean much more than just ending a marriage.

She didn't have any family. With her parents no longer in the picture, she was limited. The Granger family had always been quite small. She wouldn't have known what to do with cousins and aunts and uncles. All of her grandparents were long dead. Even if they weren't, they hadn't exactly been a significant part of her life to begin with. Her father hadn't gotten along with his parents. Her mother's parents were too self-centered to care much about their only child and grandchild. When she was young, it had always just been the three of them.

After the war ended and Hermione was finally able to take a deep breath again, she was faced with the heartbreaking realization that she had no one left. The Weasley family welcomed her into their hearts with open arms. Part of the reason it was so easy to make the decision to marry Ron was because she loved his family so much. She didn't want to imagine what would happen if they ever broke up. Losing the Weasleys was a fear that she carried with her for years. When it was evident that she and Ron had made a terrible mistake that they both regretted, she hung on to the remaining shreds of their relationship simply because she had gotten so used to being a part of their large family that she felt her heart tighten and her stomach clench at just the thought of no longer being welcomed.

They would all still love her no matter what. Of that, she was absolutely certain. Even if it was no longer possible to return to the Burrow for large family meals at holidays, she knew that at least some of the Weasleys would continue to seek her out. Her sisters-in-law wouldn't want her to be alone. They would continue to invite her to lunch even if it no longer became entirely appropriate to do so. Arthur would drop by whatever wretched flat she eventually ended up in just to make certain that she had everything she needed, ready to fix anything that needed fixing. Molly would keep her cupboards stocked and would send her a Christmas jumper every year without fail. The only member of the family who wouldn't want anything to do with her would be her husband.

Truthfully, she couldn't blame Ron. All of the blame couldn't be placed on his shoulders. Yes, the final straw had been walking in on him with his latest tart. That was a memory she wished she could have burned out of her brain. Perhaps there was a spell she could learn to rid herself of the recollections she'd rather forget. It takes two to make a marriage work and two to make it fail. She hadn't offered up the best parts of herself either. They had simply been too young, too hungry for someone to fix them whether they were conscious of that fact or not. Even if he'd been able to keep his cock in his trousers, they had an expiration date on their relationship. Life would've been easier for both of them if they'd recognized that fact years earlier before they spent so much time hurting the other. Maybe there would've even been room for her in the Weasley family after all. Now, she knew she would have to keep her distance.

When it was time to give up the cottage, she would be lost. Hermione wasn't even entirely certain that she _could_ go back to the Ministry. Beyond whatever mark would've been placed on her performance, she wasn't sure that she could be around the people who witnessed her embarrassing display that day she finally had had enough. Every time she saw them looking in her direction, even if it was all perfectly innocent, she would assume they were remembering how foolish and unhinged she'd been that day. Marietta Edgecombe already had her reasons for despising her. Forced to cross her path again, the wretched witch might not be so frightened of her next time.

She wished more than she had wished for anything her entire life to go back to the moments before she knew Rodolphus was who he was. They had been so happy that day and that incredible night. There was no denying that they had intense and spectacular chemistry. Even simply being in the same room with the former Death Eater set her senses on fire and made her skin erupt in goosebumps. A simple look in her direction from his gorgeous green eyes made her forget she was a grown woman and revert back to a giggling schoolgirl. Even after discovering his identity, she still cared about the man. She _wished_ she could forget his past, forget the damned Mark on his left arm. Didn't good people deserve second chances?

But, could a person ever actually be a _former_ Death Eater? If anyone ever discovered his true identity, he would be sent back to Azkaban without even a second thought. All of Lord Voldemort's followers were wasting away in the fortress. Though it had been improved significantly under Kingsley's tenure as the Minister for Magic, it was hardly a place where one would wish to spend the rest of their natural lives. Considering the heinous crime he was convicted of so many years earlier, his sentence was immutable. There would be no pardons for him, no parole.

Part of her wanted to know the extent of his involvement in that horrible night. Somehow, after getting to know the man on a more intimate level, she couldn't reconcile the man she knew with the monster who helped his wife, his brother, and another accomplice torture two young parents into permanent madness. She had no trouble believing it of his late wife or the man who would one day disguise himself as her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and try to get her best friend killed in the maze of the Triwizard Tournament. Though she didn't know much of anything about his younger brother, she could believe that he was culpable for the crime. But Rod? She couldn't wrap her mind around the very idea.

Of course, most of her didn't want to know anything at all about that night. If she discovered that he had indeed been a willing participant in casting the Cruciatus Curse repeatedly on Neville's parents, she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye ever again. And she very much wanted to look him in the eye. She wasn't sure she had ever wanted anything so much in her entire life.

What kind of future could the two of them possibly have? It was ridiculous to imagine that she could just move on from her broken marriage with the wizard who rightfully should have been locked up in Azkaban. They could never bring their relationship out into the open. She was a well-known person in their society. As much as she hated all of the scrutiny that came with that kind of life, she was always under the microscope of the magical press. It didn't matter that he now owned the most popular wizarding newspaper in Europe. Even he wouldn't be able to suppress the news that Hermione Granger had a new relationship. When it was discovered that she was dating an escaped fugitive and former follower of the Dark Lord, both of their lives would be ruined. He would be back in prison and she would be completely and utterly alone. Who would want to be her friend after that scandal?

It was foolish that she kept trying to consider how they could make it work. What was wrong with her? She should have packed her bags, reported the wizard to the proper authorities, and been on her way to somewhere safer. When it was evident that she had no desire to do any of those things, she knew that she was in trouble. If she wasn't careful, she would find herself in a great deal more pain than she had at the breakdown of her marriage.

By Saturday afternoon most of the snow had stopped. The temperatures were still quite low, but the witch couldn't bear to be cooped up inside the cottage for another moment. Hermione feared that she was at risk of going completely round the bend if she couldn't get some fresh air. Bundling up in her warmest clothes and wrapping a thick scarf around her neck, she stepped outside the front door. Her eyes moved of their own accord to the identical cottage a stone's throw away. Smoke rising from the chimney was still the only indication that there was still a soul living within. As much as she wanted to rush over to knock on the front door, she stopped herself. That would only create even more complications that she didn't need. Staying away from the man for the time being was the only sensible course of action.

She directed her steps down the path behind the cottages that led to the nearest lake. Tracks through the snow coming and going proved that there had been activity while she forced herself to remain inside. She wasn't knowledgable enough about tracking to tell how old they were or even if any of them belonged to humans. Wildlife was plentiful in the immediate area and she knew for a fact that there was a large Saint Bernard that liked to roam.

It saddened her that the creature hadn't come back to her cottage since the day he interrupted the almost-kiss with the Muggle. Hermione thought Andrew had been sweet, if a bit overeager. She had no reason to fear the ordinary man, but Orville certainly didn't appreciate his closeness. Perhaps the canine held out hopes that she would one day join his small family with Rodolphus and Millie. Truthfully, as much as she once believed she had no love for dogs, there seemed something quite peaceful about that existence. Entire days spent snuggled up in front of the fireplace with the dogs doing their part to share their warmth didn't sound bad at all. Hermione knew better than anyone else that she desperately needed to take time out to enjoy the simple things life had to offer.

An excited bark startled her when she was only a few meters away from the lake. Before she was even aware of what was happening, Millie was running at full-speed in her direction. The puppy launched her furry, little body into Hermione's legs, happily barking and wagging her tail. It was impossible to not laugh and smile at such an exuberant welcome. She dropped to her knees, not even caring that the ground was covered in snow and ice, to pet and scratch the creature.

When she heard the heavy footsteps approach, she didn't trust herself to look up. She knew that he was only a few steps away for the first time since _that_ morning. Her heart beat sped up with each second that passed. Petting Millie offered a distraction for the few moments it took to compose herself enough to the point where she felt she could finally meet his gaze. All calm she'd managed to find disappeared the instant her eyes fell on his face. Though he was one of those fortunate beings who would alway be handsome no matter what, she didn't like what she saw. He looked exhausted and very, very troubled. The stubble on his face was too long and she thought he might have even lost a little bit of weight. At least the slightly sunken cheeks seemed to indicate he hadn't been eating enough. His attempt at a small smile fell flat. She felt her eyes begin to fill up with tears. Would they ever be able to get past this? Should they even try?

"Is it possible that Millie has gotten bigger since I last saw her?"

Hermione was desperate for a neutral subject of conversation. If they were going to have to face the cold, hard truth that afternoon, she didn't want to get directly there. A meandering path towards misery always was better than a straight shot. There was always a chance that she could run before it got too serious if she stalled for time.

* * *

Every single day of the rest of his miserable life Rodolphus would berate himself for not running the morning the enchanting witch scratching his puppy found out his true identity. Many times over the almost two weeks since she learned about his past he'd started to pack up his meager belongings. At least twice he was completely ready to go out the front door before he stopped himself and began the unpacking process for yet another time. Even though he knew he was being foolish and reckless with his freedom, he just couldn't seem to walk away.

He'd watched her cottage through his kitchen window more times than he wanted to admit to. It was wrong. Everything he did where she was concerned was wrong. He could live a thousand lifetimes and not know why he could never think rationally around the woman. She deserved better than anything he could offer. Assuming that she lost her mind for even a moment to entertain the idea that they could exist together, where could they go? A life with him would mean asking her to give up everything and _everyone_ she had ever known. How could he ask her to pay such a steep price? He wasn't worth it.

"Not only possible, but definite. She's growing very quickly."

Millie was a safe topic, even if it wasn't the one he wanted to breach. So much needed to be said to clear the air. The way he'd left her that morning without fully explaining himself or his motivations had been wrong. At the very least she deserved to know that it had never been his intention to lie about who he was. If he had a time turner capable of taking him back four weeks into the past, he would've stayed inside his cottage no matter what. She didn't deserve the grief his presence created.

"Will she get to be as big as Orville?"

"Only if she eats too much. Which, I'm afraid, is entirely possible considering how often she tries to steal my dinner."

Her laughter was sweet music to his ears. He wanted to hear it every day, every hour, every moment. There had been a great deal of laughter when they were in her bed. It was an experience he'd never had before. Not even when he was young. Trixie was always so serious about everything, even the very act of making love. She'd never giggled when his breath or his fingers tickled her skin, never threatened to harm him in jest if he touched her in a sensitive spot again. In the later years of their marriage, before they were doomed to spend their lives in Azkaban, she'd approached the marital act as a duty to endure and not enjoy. Listening to Hermione lose herself in him even for that one single day was going to haunt him until the moment he died.

"She sounds like a very naughty puppy."

The enchanting woman's continued laughter and scratches to the puppy proved that she didn't truly believe the words she uttered. Millie was far from being offended. She had no shame when it came to having positive attention bestowed on her fluffy, little body. Content and happy to have Hermione's hands on her, Rodolphus tried to push down the burning envy he felt for his dog. There had been a blissful day when those hands had been all over _his_ body, an experience he would give just about anything to experience again and again.

He took the very simple fact that she hadn't run away in the opposite direction when she realized he was at the edge of the lake as a good sign. Perhaps, there was some part of her that wasn't completely repulsed by the man he was. It might be small, but it was _something_. He could work with even the smallest crumbs. As much as he knew that it would be better in the long run for him to leave the woman, he couldn't even imagine taking a single step away from her without his heart clenching in agony. Though he felt certain that he was likely being a tad overdramatic, he believed he would rather be dead than gone from her life forever.

"I feel that I owe you an explanation."

The bright smile that had been plastered across her beautiful features as she lavished affection on Millie slipped and dimmed. It saddened him even further that he was responsible for the loss of her smile. Further proof that he would bring her nothing but misery. Hermione began to rise to her feet. Quite out of a force of habit drilled into him by lesson after lesson in the proper manners of a Pureblood wizard, Rodolphus extended his hand to assist. The offering froze her for a moment. When she reached for it to allow the help, he felt his stomach flutter. To willingly touch him again had to mean something. One more crumb. He would take it. Even though she pulled her hand away the instant she was back on her feet, he was still pleased.

"You don't _owe_ me anything, Rod… _olphus_."

It seemed to pain her to call him by his full name. The fluttering morphed into a sinking. Maybe it had been foolish on his part to assume there would ever be even the slightest _chance_ that she could look past who he once was. But, he wasn't willing to let their conversation end there. Even if this was the last time they ever spoke to each other, he wanted to leave her with the knowledge of the man he really was. _Not_ the man he was when he was wrapped up in the fear and violence of his youth. The man he was in _that_ moment. Some days he could stare at himself in the mirror for hours and not see even a flicker of the child he once was.

"I understand this is all very strange for you. It was wrong of me to not be upfront with you from the very beginning."

"Yes, it is, and yes, it was."

"And if I wasn't willing to tell you who I really was, I should've just left you alone."

Her defeated sigh threatened to break his heart anew. She was far too young to carry such a weight on her shoulders. Deciding that this was a conversation that was best had seated, she cleared the snow off of a nearby bench with a simple charm and sat down. Though it wasn't expressly offered, he accepted the invitation to sit next to her. It was the closest they had been to the other since that morning when everything went to shit. He had to use all of his self-control to not reach out and touch her.

"I can imagine that you have some questions for me that might be a little uncomfortable."

She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. The movement was over almost as soon as it began, but he hadn't missed the sorrow still present in her brown eyes. Knowing that he was the one responsible for putting that there made him want to throw himself into the frigid water of the nearby lake and put them both out of their misery at the same time. Only his terribly wretched fear of drowning kept him firmly rooted to the spot. That, and the still ever-present hope that maybe she would find a way to look past the very worst aspects of the man he had been to see the man he desperately wanted to be.

"Neville Longbottom is one of my dearest friends."

Hearing the name of the boy who would never get to know his parents because of that horrible night struck Rodolphus right to the core. So much had gone wrong that night. The intention was never to incapacitate the young aurors. At least, _his_ intention hadn't been to do so. Whatever Bellatrix had in mind was another story. His wife wasn't exactly in a position at that point in their marriage where she made it a habit of letting him in on her thoughts and plans. There was so much that he had to regret from his years as a Death Eater. So much that he could never atone for in a dozen lifetimes. _That_ night was the worst. He would never forgive himself for the part he played in their demise.

"Alice Longbottom was my cousin."

The shock of his confession elicited a gasp from the witch and her full attention. No longer was she staring at him through the side of her eye. She was staring at him full in the face, waiting for the explanation he knew he would have to give. What kind of person would admit to causing irreparable harm to a family member? It was unconscionable. He couldn't disagree.

"Second cousin, technically, but I'm sure you're aware of all of the intertwining branches of the oldest wizarding families."

She nodded her head, still unable to form a coherent thought into words. He was grateful for the small favor. Maybe if she didn't interrupt him in the beginning, he might be able to get the full story out. While he didn't expect to ever be considered a saint, he hoped that he would at least give her enough of an explanation to prove he wasn't a complete monster.

"I always liked Alice. She was a sweet girl. My younger brother didn't care much for her. They were closer in age and she was always looked upon more favorably by our great-grandfather. Probably because she was just a bit more likable and less of a terror than he was."

There had been a rivalry between Alice and Rabastan that lasted for most of their lives. Rodolphus had been present when it had boiled over into dangerous tempers, for both of them. Alice was no weak, spineless, delicate flower in need of constant protection. More than a few times he had to physically pull her off his little brother to break up one of their rows. She made a fine auror. To know that the fiery spirit had been diminished was a great sorrow to his soul. He would always miss the woman she _should've_ become.

"I wish I could tell you that I went that night only because I was forced to, because I was under the Imperius Curse or because my wife had my bollocks in a vise. It would be a lie. I went because I _wanted_ to be there."

It was the truth, if not the full truth. He knew that his wife was determined, that Rabby had gotten it in his head that Alice and her husband would know something about the Dark Lord's disappearance. Somehow they managed to encourage that simpleton Barty Crouch, Jr. to join. All signs pointed to there being a very bad outcome. Rodolphus wanted to be there, to see if he could deescalate the situation if necessary. There was very little that could be done when the other two Lestranges put their minds to something, but he thought it might be possible to keep it fairly civil.

"I never imagined what happened would happen. Never in my wildest nightmares. I assumed that Bellatrix and my brother would get a little rough, but _never_ to the extent that they did. Frank and Alice were respected aurors, certainly, but even they wouldn't know everything about what happened to the Dark Lord. I assumed that once they realized they would get nothing, they would move on."

He sighed. It had been years since he'd even allowed himself to think over the events of that horrific night. Though never completely out of his mind, since he escaped from the dementors' relentless torture, it had been easier to push the memories further and further away.

"But I was wrong. They _didn't_ move on. They became even more violent and insistent when they didn't get the answers they were looking for."

He was a coward. Every single day since he had been unable to look himself in the mirror without thinking that thought. There was more that he could have done, more that he _should've_ done. Perhaps, if he'd tried to intervene instead of standing around staring at the events unfold in complete utter shock, he might have been able to stop them from progressing as far as they did. The Longbottoms could be a normal family with their son. Maybe there would've been more children. Rodolphus knew that Alice had always longed for a large family. Growing up as an only child had been lonely for her at times. If he had been killed in the process of saving their future, it would've been worth it. After all, what good was his life after that night anyway? He'd certainly never done anything he could be proud of himself for.

"Did _you_ curse them?"

It was evident that she was nervous to ask the question. The wizard admired her bravery even as he envied her for his lack. Turning slightly in his seat, he met her eyes to show her that he was telling the truth.

"I would be a liar if I claimed that I'd never used an Unforgivable before. I have. Many times. There was a time in my life when I used them on a regular basis, but that night? No. Not a single curse."

"Then why didn't you defend yourself when you were arrested? Why didn't you force the Wizengamot to view your memories to _prove_ that you were innocent?"

"Because I wasn't. I am just as guilty for what happened to Frank and Alice because I did nothing to stop them. It will always be my biggest regret."

He didn't expect anyone to understand his reasoning. Yes, he technically could have played the defense that he didn't know what was happening when he went to his cousin's house. His wand could've been easily tested to prove he hadn't cast a curse. But, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he told the lie that he wasn't responsible. He _was_. He should've done something. His inaction was just as bad as everyone else's actions.

"I could never ask you to forgive me for something I cannot forgive myself for."

There was a softening in her eyes that he didn't miss. She was easy enough to read when she put all of her emotions right there on her beautiful face. A big part of her, perhaps all of her, was ready to forget what a monster he was. He couldn't let her do that. She had already experienced enough heartache in her young life. Imagining that he would cause even more was too much.

"I won't lie and say that I regret getting to know you, Hermione. I know that I should've stayed in my cottage, but I'm glad that I didn't."

"I'm glad that you didn't too."

Rodolphus felt his chest tighten at her softly spoken statement. Could it be possible that even after everything she could still be entertaining the thought that meeting him hadn't been a complete disaster? He took a deep breath before he could trust himself to speak again. Before anything went too far, he had to stop it.

"Beyond the fact that I'm a known fugitive from Azkaban, it's been assumed for many years now that I'm dead. Any sort of life with me in it would be awkward and shrouded in secrecy. Trust me when I say that that is no way to live."

Her face fell. He could've cursed himself for being the cause again. Not trusting himself to remain seated next to her for any longer length of time without reaching for her and begging her to run away with him, Rodolphus rose to his feet. She didn't stop him, didn't even ask. The walk back to his home was cold and lonely. Just as he'd gotten used to his entire life being. He saw no opportunity for that to change at any point.


	12. Week Five: Sunday

Week Five - Part One

Hermione wished there were easy answers to all of the questions that plagued her, but she was experienced enough in living that she knew there weren't. Complicated problems rarely had simple solutions. Days alone without any company from any of the souls that lived in the cottage a short distance away made for a lonely existence. More than a few times following the tense conversation she had with Rod at the lake, she considered packing everything up and ending her forced sabbatical early. What was the purpose in torturing herself with the impossible?

By Saturday morning of the fifth week since she arrived at the secluded cottage, she was in another of her depressive funks that she struggled to shake off. Maybe Kingsley found solitude at his cousin's cottage to be conducive to relaxation, but she certainly wasn't. Of course, she had the sneaking suspicion that many of the Minister's visits to the cottage _weren't_ alone. It opened up a whole line of thinking about the wizard's personal life that she knew she shouldn't pursue. Everyone deserved a little privacy. Especially the man who spent almost every waking moment in the public eye.

Her time was running out. Before she was ready, it would be time to go back to the Ministry. Just imagining how awkward and uncomfortable it would be to face down everyone who witnessed her breakdown was encouragement to slide back under the covers of the decadent bed and never emerge. Maybe if she was lucky the weight of the blankets would crush her or suffocate the air from her lungs. At least then she wouldn't have to speak to her husband again. With each tick of the clock, she knew she was closer and closer to the moment they would finally have to speak.

She could understand the appeal of living a life on the run and in hiding. Rodolphus did so out of necessity, but perhaps she could do it simply because she desired to be away from all of the trappings of her past. It wasn't as if she had a lot waiting for her back in London. Or the rest of the country for that matter.

Marrying Ron had been a mistake that she regretted almost as soon as it happened. It saddened her to know that their friendship was irrevocably ruined by their rash decision to say their vows. _Why_ was it necessary that they stand in front of all of their family and friends to declare they would be together until death parted them when neither of them knew with any certainty that that's what they actually wanted? They had both been so young and so broken. Someone should have stopped them. Someone should've seen what they were too blind to see.

Fearing that she would only continue to dwell on terrible thoughts of lost potential if she remained in bed, Hermione forced herself to get up. She lingered in a long, hot shower hoping that movement would clear her upsetting thoughts. Unfortunately, all standing in the shower did was remind her of the _eventful_ shower she shared with Rod weeks earlier. Almost as if they'd both known that they would only have one shot, they tried as many positions and locations in that too-short time together as they could. She wondered if she would ever be able to lather up her skin without feeling the ghost of his touch. In that moment, it didn't seem likely.

Dressed and her hair dried with a simple spell, Hermione forced herself to enter the kitchen. As much as she wanted something to fill her belly and a cup of hot tea, she didn't want to be anywhere near the window she'd become obsessed with during her stay. Avoiding it was impossible. It beckoned to her each time she was anywhere close. Sh wanted to forget it was there. Every time she caught herself looking out it, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rod, a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

She appreciated his candor the day down at the lake. If she was completely truthful, she never expected that he would be so forthright about the night that essentially ruined his entire life. It would have been easy to lie, to swear that he was framed for the horrific crime that ruined other lives as well. Part of her even wanted him to tell her that his arrest had been one giant mistake, that he was only implicated because his wife and younger brother were there. Knowing that he stood by and did nothing was hard to hear, but she could take some comfort knowing his remorse. And, hadn't so many years in Azkaban been a steep enough price to pay for his foolishness and fear?

To keep from torturing herself, Hermione turned her back to the kitchen window as she sipped her first cup of tea. There were other windows in the cottage to look out after all. She was fortunate to be tucked away in a beautiful part of her country. To not appreciate it all because she was too consumed with obsessing over an enigmatic wizard next door was foolish, even inexcusable.

Halfway through her cup, she noticed movement outside the cottage in the direction of the village. Expecting to see a large Saint Bernard coming up the path, she set her cup down on the table. It had been days since she last had a chance to see Orville. If he was out and about on one of his roams, she wasn't going to miss the opportunity to give him a scratch behind his ears. When she looked up from the table, a flash of red against the white of the snow startled a gasp from her mouth. Hoping that she was imagining something that wasn't actually there, she grabbed her coat off of the back of a chair. Slipping her feet into the boots left by the door, she threw open the door. The last thing she wanted was a scene.

Her husband didn't see her at first. His attention was focused on moving between the two cottages, as if he was trying to figure out which one to approach. Hermione's feet crunching on the frozen grass was loud enough to draw his gaze directly to where she stood. Being face to face with the man for the first time since that horrible day she walked in on him with another woman in their bed was surreal. She _knew_ this moment was going to happen sooner or later. She just hoped that it would happen when she was expecting it. Having him just appear out of thin air at her hidden sanctuary was disconcerting. Kingsley made a promise to her that he wouldn't tell anyone where she could be found. Only Fleur knew the broadest of details about her destination. Even if she knew the geographical coordinates, she trusted her sister-in-law to keep her secret.

"How did you find me?"

Surely there were better questions to ask first, better statements to make. Used to blurting out whatever was on her mind, Hermione didn't even hesitate to demand to know how he discovered her hiding place. Before he would answer, Ron stalked closer, closing the distance between them. She wished he would stay away. His presence was making her nervous. Her hands trembled slightly and she knew it wasn't the cold. Confrontations, especially not one that was liable to be quite tense, were never fun for her. She could only imagine how poorly this would go.

"Someone in the village recognized you. Said that he thought I might want to know where my wife was hiding all these weeks."

His tone proved that he was annoyed but Hermione couldn't understand what he had to be upset about. No doubt he enjoyed his freedom for the past several weeks without her around. Maybe he was able to desecrate their marital bed several more times with his cheap slags. Well, _before_ Rod hexed his bollocks that is. A curse to such a sensitive part of a body could take a while to recover from. She bit back a grin at the thought.

Her joy lasted only for a moment as she considered what he'd just announced. Someone from the village had been watching her enough to know her true identity? Kingsley made it seem like there were only Muggles in the immediate area. Which of them could have possibly sold out her location?

 _Andrew_. Somehow she knew it without a doubt. Obviously the Muggle who wanted to follow her home wasn't a Muggle after all. She couldn't remember ever seeing his face before, but that didn't mean anything. It wasn't as if she personally knew every witch or wizard in the entire country after all. Andrew must have been Muggle-born. No one could be so convincing as a Muggle otherwise. It bothered her that she didn't find anything odd or unnerving about the man. She felt like she should've been able to recognize when someone was holding back the truth. It was infuriating to know that she couldn't really trust anyone. And he seemed so nice too!

" _Why_ are you here, Ronald?"

She wanted him to go away. His mere presence in what had been such a lovely sanctuary was marring the experience. As long as he knew where to find her whenever he wished, she would find no peace or comfort.

"It's time for you to come home. We can still fix this."

Sometimes she was too harsh on her husband. She always had been. They were _both_ too hard on the other. Each of them had always such unrealistic expectations. Neither of them were innocent even if it was much easier placing the blame of their problems at Ron's feet because of his extramarital affairs. His sins were obvious, hers less so. They were just quite simply two people who should've never gotten married. All they did was make each other and themselves miserable. It was no way to continue living.

Why then was her husband so sure that they _could_ fix their marriage? It seemed to her there was very little worth saving. Even just the thought of going back home to their cold flat to "try again" made her depressed beyond words. Hadn't they already wasted too much of their young lives being miserable? She was never going to be the wife he longed for. He was never going to be the husband she desired. Best to run while they still could.

" _Why_ , Ronald? What's the point?"

She was surprised by the resignation in her tone. Somehow she assumed when this moment finally arrived she would be unable to stop yelling. Maybe even crying. Or cursing. She also thought she wouldn't mind picking up where Rod left off. But, now that it was happening, all she felt was just an extreme amount of exhaustion. All she wanted to do was crawl back under her covers and drift away to a dream world where she didn't have to worry about her next step, where her future didn't frighten her.

"We're married, Hermione."

"So? All we've ever done was make each other miserable. Why would you want to try to save that?"

Ron seemed at a loss for how to respond. No doubt he assumed that she would be willing to come back merely because he asked. It worked in the past. Once they each had a chance to calm down, she was usually agreeable to trying again for appearances' sake. This time, however, she wasn't. Not only had her breakdown been completely humiliating, her time away proved she couldn't go back to living a lie. Even the thought of trying was too much.

"When was the last time you were happy with me, Ron? I mean, _really_ happy?"

The plain fact that he had to put so much thought into coming with an answer was telling. Their marriage was over, had been for years. Could he not see that? Or was he choosing to willfully ignore it for a purpose she didn't understand?

"No Weasley has ever been divorced."

He spoke so softly she almost missed the content of his statement. Quiet and unable to meet her eyes, the wizard looked ashamed, almost as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world than right where he was standing. Hermione sighed when the pieces clicked together. Ron didn't want to be there any more than she wanted him there.

The tiniest wave of sympathy threatened to crash down on the woman. Only for a passing moment, of course. He wasn't wrong about the history of Weasley marital bonds. In fact, most of the Pureblood families could proudly boast of never facing the scandal of divorce anywhere in their convoluted family trees. Of course, they could also boast of centuries filled with miserable, hateful alliances too. Just because a couple chose to stay married didn't mean they were happy. She refused to waste her life being miserable. Maybe her parents would've felt the same way as the Weasleys, but it didn't matter. Not really. This was _her_ life. No one else's.

"I'm very sorry that you will be the first, but you can't honestly expect me to keep on living this way. It's not fair to either of us."

"My mum told me to find you and make it right."

Hermione sighed. As much as she loved Molly, and she truly did, the woman could be an absolute nightmare when she set her mind to something. Maybe she wasn't aware of the extent of their problems or she was under the delusional impression that _nothing_ couldn't be mended. All Hermione knew was the thought of going to battle with her mother-in-law wasn't one she relished. Every nasty detail of their failed marriage would have to come out. She wasn't sure she had the stomach for that.

"I'm very sorry to disappoint your family, but no, I'm not coming home with you."

When he didn't move to immediately leave, Hermione worried that there was going to be a dramatic scene. Hadn't they already made each other miserable enough? When would it all finally end?

* * *

It was wrong to stand behind his cracked front door to eavesdrop on Hermione's conversation with her estranged husband. Rodolphus knew that perfectly well. She was entitled to her own privacy. Hadn't he violated it enough already? But, as much as his head knew what he was doing was wrong, his heart didn't care. Something about the wizard she married put him on edge. It might have only been simple jealousy and anger that the fool would ever seek out another witch's charms when the most desirable one was neglected. Just to ensure her continued safety, he would keep listening.

"Please, Hermione. Don't make me beg."

The boy was tenacious. Rodolphus would give him that. Most in his position would've already given up any hope of reconciliation. He wasn't sure if the boy was that stubborn or just that thick to keep badgering the woman who clearly didn't want him. If he allowed himself to put himself in the other wizard's shoes, he knew he could be sympathetic. He knew all too well about the stigma of divorce in Pureblood families. Many times he dreamed of abandoning Bellatrix. Each time, he considered what it would mean not only for his family's reputation but for hers as well. He never carried through with his plans until he had the perfect opportunity to fake his own death.

Feeling even a slight twinge of sympathy for the cretin made him scowl. He didn't want to see eye-to-eye with a man who could hurt Hermione so easily. Maybe once upon a time he was a kind, good person, but he would never be able to think of the other man without remembering how his wife cried that first day she arrived into his fur. _That_ had been the cry of a brokenhearted, exhausted person. One terrible incident, one wretched day wouldn't put someone in such a state. Whatever was making her miserable had to have been going on for years. As one who knew the signs, he could spot the truth.

"You can beg all you want. It won't change anything. I am _not_ going to go home with you."

"Hermione…"

"No! I've already told you. There's nothing left for me there. I _won't_ go back."

It took all of Rodolphus' self-control not to storm outside to face down the wizard who was agitating Hermione. He wasn't sure where the protective streak came from, but he wasn't trying to stop it. It seemed to him that _no one_ was on her side, not truly. If her Muggle family was worth a damn, she would be with them recovering from the disappointment of her failed marriage. Considering she never once brought them up in any of their previous conversations on more than just a passing manner, it was evident that they weren't in the picture. All she had was her husband's family and what friends she'd made. He got the impression by the distressing lack of visitors that if it came down to a choice of either Hermione or Weasley, most of their friends would pick the idiot.

Life wasn't fair. If circumstances would allow it, Rodolphus would be the staunchest ally and supporter that she had. He would stand between her and danger or scorn or any other number of negative experiences. She was alone because the only person who really wanted her, who really _could_ be on her side was a convicted fugitive on the run from the Ministry. He was a black cloud on her life, always just one step away from capture and humiliation. What sort of life could he expect her to have if he mucked it all up by accidentally allowing their society to know that they were connected? No one would ever trust her again once rumors of her odd friendship and brief dalliance with a Death Eater got out. Even as the owner of The Daily Prophet he would be powerless to stop the flow of news. She would be ruined and it would be all his fault.

A whine from Millie laying in her bed by the fireplace broke him out of his increasingly depressing thoughts. He didn't need to keep dwelling on all of the reasons why he should let the remarkable witch walk out of his life. There were plenty of them existing just at the surface he could latch onto without digging too deeply. His puppy stared at him with a confused expression on her tilted head. She was beginning to be more aware and more perceptive of his moods the older she grew. Even without slipping into his animagus form he could practically read her mind. It was easy to communicate with an animal if one simply took the time time to learn their cues.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. He was known as a man with a history of terrible ideas and plans. After all, he'd actually _married_ Bellatrix Black _and_ didn't kill her soon after. There was a way that he could lend his support to Hermione without putting himself in danger of getting caught. Transforming into his animagus form before he could talk himself out of doing something so foolish, he growled a warning at Millie to stay put. He wasn't entirely sure what the consequences of his actions might be and she didn't deserve to get caught up in any potential crossfire. Crying her dislike of the order, his puppy snuggled back into her bed. Pushing the door open the rest of the way with his nose, Rodolphus bounced out onto the frozen grass where the married couple were still speaking.

Neither of them paid him much attention. Hermione granted him the smallest of smiles before turning back to her worthless husband. The git's eyes widened slightly at the sheer size of the new arrival, but he didn't seem threatened. It was enough to calm Rodolphus' nerves to stand inches away from the witch he longed to protect. If it came down to it, he felt that ripping out the redhead's throat would be entirely possible. He didn't care much for the taste of blood, but he was willing to make sacrifices.

"You should go, Ron. Tell your mum that I'm a terrible person who refuses to listen to what you have to say. She's probably going to paint me as a bad wife as it is."

The sadness in her voice struck Rodolphus right in the heart. She was too young to carry such weight on her shoulders. How miserably alone must she be feeling at that moment? He gently leaned his entire body against her legs, being careful not to knock her over.

"Now you're just being ridiculous, Hermione. Mum _loves_ you. She always has. And she'll be willing to forgive you if you just come back with me."

Even a dog knew the words the boy chose were poor. Hermione's eyes shot up from where they had been focused on the ground into her husband's. The resignation was absent. All that poured from her light brown eyes was pure rage. Weasley seemed taken aback by the abrupt change. Rodolphus' assumption from earlier that he must be quite thick returned. Even if he possessed the logic and intelligence that his wife claimed he did, smart people still made stupid decisions sometimes. No one was perfect.

"Forgive _me_? Your mum will be willing to forgive _me_?"

As much as Rodolphus would've given anything to have the opportunity to spend the rest of his miserable life with the enchanting creature, he hoped to never be on the end of her furious temper. Part of him even felt sorry for her husband. He wasn't going to like what happened next.

"For what exactly, Ronald? Staying with you for years despite knowing you were cheating on me with multiple women? Putting up with your foul moods and your petulant tempers? What could your mum possibly need to forgive _me_ for?"

"Now you're just being unreasonable."

The low growl came out of Rodolphus' mouth before he even realized he was stalking closer to the cretin, thereby placing his body between the two. He would rip him apart limb by limb if it would put a smile on her face. Weasley didn't appreciate the change in his stance. Definitely didn't appreciate how close his exposed teeth were getting to him. When he started to slowly back away, the animagus felt pride in his action.

" _Leave_ , Ron. Just go."

Ignoring the canine wishing him harm, the younger wizard stepped closer to his wife. He reached his hand out to grab her arm.

"No, I'm not leaving until… _fuck_!"

The sharp bite to the wizard's right calf nearly toppled him to the ground. Rodolphus wasn't planning on causing any permanent damage. He just needed to make sure that his point was made. _No one_ grabbed his witch. _No one_.

"Goodbye, Ronald."

Rodolphus made sure that Hermione was safely inside her cottage before he ceased his growling and threatening snapping of his jaws. He sat in the grass until he was certain the obnoxious arsehole was well and truly gone.

* * *

Several hours passed after Ron's impromptu visit before Hermione felt calm again. His sudden appearance put her on edge. If Orville hadn't been there, she felt certain that the row would've continued much longer. Maybe she would've even bitten Ron herself. Godric knew that she often fantasized enough about it in the past. She was grateful that the usually gentle Saint Bernard wasn't afraid to step in to keep her protected from an unfriendly outsider.

Once her tears finally stopped and she only felt numb, she took a long nap. She tried to finish one of her worthless novels, but nothing could keep her attention long. Her eyes kept drifting over to the window that she knew would give her the perfect view of the kitchen next door. Just as late afternoon began to morph into early evening, she couldn't stand it any longer. There was no harm in taking a gift next door to thank the master of the dog who saved her from a very awkward, uncomfortable experience.

She was wrapped in her cloak and halfway to Rod's house with a bottle of wine in her hands before she could talk herself out of doing something so rash. Pursuing a friendship with a known Death Eater on the run was foolish, dangerous even. Actually desiring much more than a friendship with so much worse. She shook her head to dislodge any upsetting thoughts. Just a few minutes with the man and his dogs was all she desired. Nothing had to come of it. They could just talk.

When she passed by Rod's kitchen window outside, she stopped to take a peek in. A harmless glance at the inside of the cottage before she knocked on the front door wouldn't hurt anyone. She smiled to see Orville wrestling Millie on the floor in front of the fireplace. Both dogs seemed to be having the time of their lives. There was no sign of Rod, but he could've easily just stepped out of the room for a minute. Remembering how pleasant the thought of snuggling up on a couch with Rod and his two dogs was, Hermione smiled to herself and continued her trek to the front door. She lifted her hand to knock.

* * *

Rodolphus couldn't be sure how many times the visitor knocked on his front door. He'd been so busy playing with Millie that he wasn't even sure he heard the first couple. Each one grew louder than the last until he couldn't ignore it any longer. Only two people ever knocked on his door: Sada Shafiq and Hermione. He knew which one he _wished_ it would be, but wasn't about to hold his breath in anticipation. Transforming quickly back into his normal form, he took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his rapid breathing. He hated how obvious it was becoming that he was getting old. Millie could play for hours without shortness of breath. What stamina little puppies possessed!

Still trying to breathe normally, he opened the front door. To his delight, it _was_ the witch he desired. Her face split into a bright grin. Holding up the wine bottle for him to see, she stepped inside his cottage before getting an invitation. Not that she really needed one. She was always welcome.

"I wanted to come by to thank you for your dog's help today."

He knew he would have to pretend like he didn't know what she was saying. For all she knew, he wasn't anywhere near the cottages when they were arguing. Pretending that he was confused, he allowed her the chance to give him a brief explanation.

"So you see, I owe Orville some rather large scratches behind his ears. Where is he?"

She started to look around the small cottage for evidence of the dog. Rodolphus wasn't sure what to say. The fact that his dog always seemed to be out roaming whenever he was around was a bit suspicious. If she ever confronted him about it, he would have to come clean with the entire truth. _That_ was a moment he wasn't looking forward to.

"He's probably out sniffing for rabbits again. Can't seem to get enough with chasing them."

Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.

"But I _just_ saw him. Right here. Playing with Millie."

He could feel his cheeks begin to burn under her scrutiny. Unable to trust himself to speak, Rodolphus stayed silent. Hermione wasn't satisfied. Not caring that it could be considered rude, she began a search of the cottage for the dog he knew she would never find. He was going to have to confess it all.


	13. Week Five: Still Sunday

Week Five - Part Two

There were only so many places in Rodolphus' small cottage that a large dog could hide. Hermione searched every inch of the place without any luck. She didn't know what to think. Orville had _just_ been inside. She witnessed him playing with Millie in front of the fire with her own eyes. It wasn't as if the dog could've exited the front door of the cottage without her noticing. There wasn't another door that led to the outside and she knew that dogs weren't usually in the habit of sneaking in and out of windows. Logic would tell her that he would _still_ be there.

But he wasn't. Each step she took made the tension in her gut tighten. Something was wrong. For once, she knew it wasn't her that was mistaken. As much as the thought of losing her grip on reality terrified her to her very bones, she _knew_ what she saw was real. And if the man standing just steps behind her tried to convince her that she was crazy or mistaken, she would know that she couldn't trust him. Anyone who would lie about something she saw with her own eyes wasn't someone she needed to have in her life.

"Where is Orville, Rod?"

The wizard seemed at a loss for words. He cleared his throat, searching for the right thing to say before opening his mouth. In Hermione's experience, when one was unable to come right out and say what they were thinking, it was a definite sign they were hiding something awful. Hadn't she spent enough of her life alongside a man who would lie to her just as easily as not? She didn't want to imagine that the kind widower she met weeks earlier was just as capable of lying as her soon-to-be ex-husband, but nothing so far was convincing enough to persuade her otherwise.

A possible explanation for the disappearance of his dog suddenly struck Hermione. It was absurd, absolutely absurd. Almost as soon as the idea popped into her mind, she rushed to discredit it. Despite what the fairy tales and other legendary stories would have one believe, there was a branch of magic that was actually _not_ that common. Just because by some sheer miracle three third years were able to figure out the intricacies and remain patient long enough through the arduous and tedious process, did _not_ mean that it was easily attainable. Still, she felt an obligation to ask the man straight out.

"Are you an animagus, Rodolphus?"

"I… well, the truth of the matter is… It was never my intention…"

She didn't need to hear another stammer from the man. Dropping the wine bottle she brought as a gift to the hardwood floor, Hermione turned on her heel and headed straight for the front door. No amount of his pleading would convince her to stop. Anyone who would lie to her so thoroughly wasn't worth her time.

It wasn't until she was back inside the safety of her own cottage alone that the mortification of the whole unbelievable situation struck her fully. Rodolphus _was_ Orville. How could she have not seen it all sooner? The two of them were never in the same place at the same time. Shouldn't the thought that he was an animagus have crossed her mind at least once? Though incredibly rare, there was always the possibility, even if it was infinitesimal, that there was another unregistered animagus wandering around their country.

"No, Hermione, this is _not_ your fault."

No matter what anyone else might have believed, she would _never_ be angry with herself for not figuring out his secret before she did. The vast majority of the magical population was incapable of performing the necessary sort of magic to transform their entire body into an animal. She should know. During her last year at Hogwarts when she'd returned after the war to finish her schooling, she'd begged Professor McGonagall to tutor her privately in the hopes she could become an animagus herself. Hermione followed all of the directions that she read from her books to the letter, held the mandrake leaf in her mouth for the required month, and when it was time to attempt the final transformation, failed miserably. The Headmaster had been kind in her assertion that there were just some forms of magic that were better suited to others.

If _that_ had been her experience, learning that not everything could be learned straight from a book, was she really expected to go through life _expecting_ that every animal she saw was a witch or wizard in hiding? It was a preposterous way to live. That was how paranoid people became even crazier than they already were. No doubt Mad Eye Moody frequently checked random creatures that crossed his path for being human. Hermione refused to ever allow herself to become that unhinged. She would never have a moment's peace looking for Death Eaters in every stray dog or happy squirrel she encountered.

Regretting the fact that she dropped her bottle of wine on Rodolphus' floor before she rushed out of there, Hermione was glad to find she hadn't gifted her last. Ignoring the damned window in the kitchen that brought her nothing but grief, she wasted no time opening up a fresh bottle. Pouring a deep glass, she took several deep swigs of the liquid hoping to calm her nerves.

Beyond being angry about his deception, Hermione was certain that never in her entire life had she ever been so humiliated. Even when the fog of her rage that horrible day in the Ministry lifted and she could stop and consider how drastic her actions had been in front of all of those witnesses, she hadn't been half as mortified. She'd _confided_ in the dog. Cried into his fur. He had been inside her bathroom when she was taking a bath long before she invited the man he actually was into her bed. Merlin, he'd _slept_ in her bed in his animagus form. How could she ever look at the man again without feeling the shame and embarrassment that plagued her in that moment? She wasn't sure it was possible to forgive him for lying to her for so long.

Refilling her now-empty glass, Hermione picked up the bottle and carried it with her into the bathroom. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd drown in the bathtub and never have to worry about seeing the wizard again.

* * *

His first instinct was to run out of his cottage after the woman to beg and plead for her forgiveness. Almost immediately after thinking those thoughts, Rodolphus gave them up. There was nothing he could say to make up for what he'd done. How could she ever trust him again? Not only had he lied about his true identity, he'd also kept his biggest secret from her. She was a woman who, unfortunately, had already experienced the pain of an untrustworthy wizard in her life. He would only ever remind her of his failings.

Picking up the bottle she dropped on his floor, he carried it to his kitchen. If ever there was a time he could use a drink, it was in that moment. Trying to keep from invading her privacy yet again by peering out his kitchen window to see what she was doing inside her cottage, the wizard uncorked the wine. Before even reaching for a glass, he pulled a deep drink straight from the bottle. Deciding that he would drink until he found the bottom, he returned to his sofa with the bottle in hand and nothing else. This wasn't a time for glasses.

Millie seemed bothered by his forlorn mood. Unable to understand what was happening in her master's life, she nonetheless made the effort to crawl onto the cushion next to him. Nestling her fluffy head onto his thigh, she provided what comfort she was able. He appreciated the attention. Even if Hermione never wanted to speak to him again, he still had one female in his life who loved him unconditionally. At least for the next eight to ten years, he could rely on that until little Millie ended her too-short life. It saddened him that such pure, precious creatures as dogs only lived a tiny fraction of the time on Earth that horrible wizards like him could expect. Before his body succumbed to a natural death, he had multiple decades to look forward to first. Sometimes the long life afforded a magical being was more curse than blessing.

He would have to leave the cottage soon. Not to make a desperate plea to his nearest neighbor for forgiveness. No, he would need to do what he should've done years earlier when he first secured his freedom from the evil Dark Lord he followed. There was no place for him in his native country any longer.

Part of him despised the fact that he continued to worry about his worthless arse even after knowing how much his actions and his lies hurt the one woman he had no desire to ever harm. He should have been honest with her from the very beginning. And if he wasn't able to be honest, he should have left her alone. The sneaking around to her cottage in his animagus form was wrong on so many different levels. He truly was a dirty old dog, in more ways than one. She was well within her rights to punish him for his transgressions.

Rodolphus couldn't even blame her if she reported him to the Ministry. Even after he told her the truth about the night that Alice and Frank Longbottom were attacked, he was still a convicted Death Eater. There was still a cell waiting for him in Azkaban. All it would take was a single word to the right person and she could have him dragged back to prison where he belonged. He wouldn't even fight them. No doubt she would report him for being an unregistered animagus too. He wouldn't be able to use his special skill to escape.

If he went back to Azkaban, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would go completely mad. It didn't matter that the dementors had been taken away from the island because they'd proven how untrustworthy they could be after their betrayal during the last war. Just the memories of what the place was like once upon a time would be enough torture. The current Minister for Magic made strides immediately after the Dark Lord fell to improve conditions in the notorious wizard prison. Rodolphus had no doubts that it was better than it used to be, but he knew he couldn't last. Imagining being back inside the stone fortress set his teeth on edge and made his skin itch. He wondered if the rats were still an issue. Were they taken care of as part of Minister Shacklebolt's improvements? Part of the reason that he couldn't stand for Millie to be in the bed with him while he slept was because if she moved her fur across his face or his skin while he was sleeping, all he could think about were the rats that ran free through the prison.

No, he was determined that _that_ would not be his fate. Not again. Wasn't a lifetime of solitude where he never had friends or love punishment enough for his inaction that dreadful night so many years earlier? Rising from the sofa, he took another deep swig from the bottle of wine. It was almost half gone. He didn't remember drinking it so quickly. No matter. The alcohol coursing through his bloodstream would only make what he had to do that much easier.

There was no sense in waiting to be captured. If he wanted to keep his freedom intact, Rodolphus needed to leave as soon as physically possible. Several times throughout the five weeks since the enchanting witch moved in next door he packed all of his meager belongings in preparation to run. It never took him long to unpack after he made the decision to remain just a little bit longer. Stopping only now and then to take another drink from the bottle that was disappearing rapidly, he pulled all of clothing out of his wardrobe, rolled them up into messy wads of fabric and shoved them in suitcases.

Perhaps half of his worldly goods were haphazardly packed into various containers when the last drop of wine slid out of the neck of the bottle onto his tongue. He wasn't nearly as drunk as he longed to be. _This_ wasn't an occasion for wine. Dropping the empty bottle in almost the exact same place he'd picked it up from just a short time earlier in the evening, he headed for the kitchen in search of more to drink. Sadly, there wasn't a single bottle of fire whiskey or any other kind of liquid to satisfy his thirst for inebriation. Not even another bottle of wine could be uncovered. He wasn't usually much of a drinker due to the fact that he enjoyed it perhaps a little _too_ much.

Standing at the kitchen sink cursing his bad luck, Rodolphus couldn't keep from staring out the damned window. He had no right to seek out the witch when he'd done nothing but lie to her and hurt her. If the situation had been different… no, he shook his head to dispel all thoughts of "what might have been". That was a path that led to nothing but madness and regret. Changing the past wasn't a possibility. If it was, he would've altered the trajectory of his depressing timeline years earlier. Maybe even figured out a way to keep his hands out from under Bellatrix Black's skirts. Absolutely nothing good came out of his association with the wretched witch.

No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see Hermione. Lights were on in her cottage, but she wasn't in the large main room of the cottage. Likely, she was already tucked away in bed for the night. He hoped that she wasn't hiding under the covers crying. A sharp stab went straight to his heart at the thought that he would be the cause of even more tears for the poor woman. Or, she might be taking advantage of the deep tub in her bathroom in an attempt to soak away all anxiety and thoughts about the man she had the misfortune to meet. Thinking about the second option brought up an entirely different sensation in his traitorous body that he immediately tried to quell. There was no sense in allowing his thoughts to travel down _that_ disgusting road. She deserved more respect from him than lecherous fantasies about joining her in the tub.

Whatever foolish dreams he'd managed to build up in his sad and lonely mind over the course of her stay next door needed to be crushed before he allowed himself to go completely mad. Years stuck in Azkaban taught him how to live another life entirely inside his own mind. While it had been the only way to keep hold of his sanity during those awful years, to try to attempt the same kind of thinking outside of the prison wasn't healthy. Leaving the country was best all around for everyone involved. Perhaps in time Hermione could even forget the humiliation he subjected her to because of his careless actions and blatant lies.

He would never forgive himself if he left again without saying goodbye. The first time, when he went off to London with hopes of starting a new life where she wouldn't creep back into his thoughts, he knew he couldn't say his farewells out of fear that he would never be able to leave. One look in his direction and she would captivate him even further. But, it wouldn't be right to walk away without even attempting to apologize for the harm he'd caused. Glad for the added courage that the bottle of wine provided, Rodolphus rushed out the front door before he could talk himself out of it.

The distance between their cottages never seemed so short before. Long before he even knew what he was going to say to the woman, he was already standing in front of her door. The urge to run began to creep up inside him. If he didn't knock on the front door immediately, he would never have the courage. Lifting his hand, Rodolphus rapped on the wood.

* * *

Hermione jumped when she heard the sound of the knocking on the front door. Knowing without a shadow of a doubt who she would find on the other side, she was in no rush to answer. Hadn't there been enough mortification for one night? Of course, she wouldn't have said no to more numbing. There likely wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make her forget what happened. Did Rod really have to come over to her home to make it worse? She'd already finished the bottle of wine she opened while she was in the tub. Dressed only in her bathrobe, she wasn't exactly fit to receive visitors anyway. Especially not ones that she was sorely tempted to hex all of their hair off their head. She finished wiping the water she splashed on her flushed face off with a clean towel.

He was insistent. When the first knock went unanswered, he proceeded to knock again. And again. And again. Each one grew louder and more urgent. Part of her worried that there was an emergency. Could she live with herself if she ignored him when he was truly in need? Sometimes she really wished she could ignore the Gryffindor traits she possessed. Having a sense of noble purpose and feeling the desire to save people could be quite tiresome. It was no wonder Harry seemed exhausted all of the time.

The wizard was in the middle of yet another knock when she pulled the door open. Teetering forward, he seemed unsteady on his feet and in danger of toppling over. Based on the flush in his cheeks, it was evident she wasn't the only one of them who spent the couple of hours apart imbibing. What she might have found endearing even just that morning grated on her nerves. Did he actually think he was going to accomplish something by coming over in that state? She couldn't understand what he was thinking.

" _What_ do you want, Lestrange?"

Calling him by his hated surname was intentional. She didn't want to get too personal with the man. If she did… she couldn't trust herself. Even as she continued to feel the sting of embarrassment knowing that he'd been lying to her as he witnessed private moments she didn't want anyone to see, she felt her resolve slipping. Seeing the flash of pain in his eyes when she reminded them both of who he actually was hurt her too. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him more pain.

"I came to… I came to apologize."

She wasn't surprised that he was there to try to make amends. This was the same man who apologized for running out on her after their first kiss by buying the newspaper that had been printing scurrilous lies about her and firing the reporter she hated above all others. Considering the magnitude of his current error, Hermione half-expected some grand gesture. For him to just walk over in the cold without a coat to offer his apology felt more genuine. She could feel the traitorous feelings that she'd been harboring for the man inside of her for weeks threaten to burst out. A large part of her _wanted_ desperately to forgive him. But, she wouldn't give in so easily. His breach of trust was huge. She couldn't afford to treat that lightly.

"For what exactly? For lying to me about who you really were? For _what_ you were? Or maybe you want to apologize for betraying my trust. For listening to me blather on about you when I didn't realize who you were? For sleeping in my bed before I gave you permission? For watching me in the bath?"

His shame was evident as she ticked off each of his crimes. In the time that passed since she stormed out of his cottage moments after realizing he was an animagus, she stopped to consider all of the dreadfully embarrassing things she'd done in front of him and the mortifying things she'd said to him when he was in his animal form. She wasn't sure that she would ever be able to see a dog again without remembering her humiliation. To know that he'd been there the entire time while she thought she was unburdening her heart to a dog who couldn't understand her words was something she wasn't sure she would ever be able to get over.

"What I did was…"

"Horrible. Unconscionable. _Creepy_."

Rodolphus balked when she said the last word. It just sort of slipped out of her mouth and Hermione wished she could pull it back in. She knew that he thought their age difference was something to be ashamed of. Even if he had never come right out and said so, she knew that he felt awkward around her because of how young she was. To point that out to him wasn't exactly kind. Just because she was upset didn't mean she had the right to be nasty.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you were absolutely right. What I did was nothing less than creepy. I can't expect you to ever forgive me."

She almost smiled when she realized how much like an overgrown puppy he looked when he was feeling ashamed. There was such sadness in his eyes that she felt tempted to forgive him on the spot. Besides, who hadn't done something they were ashamed of when it came to their romantic pursuits? She still couldn't think about how she practically threw herself at Cormac McLaggen during sixth year to make Ron jealous without wanting to crawl underneath her own bed. Maybe the wine was making her head fuzzy, but she really wanted to forgive him.

But, she stopped herself before inviting him inside with a promise that all was forgiven. Brushing his actions under the rug wouldn't do either one of them any good. What he did was wrong, _terribly_ wrong. She should not only _not_ forgive him, she should be turning him into the proper authorities with the Ministry. How many other people in the years since he went on the run were taken in by his act? Had he slept in other unsuspecting women's beds? Or watched them bathe without their knowledge that the fluffy Saint Bernard they loved to scratch behind the ears was actually a wizard on the run from his past?

"I'm leaving very soon."

"To where?"

There was a note of desperation in her voice that she cursed when she asked him what his destination was. Of course it would be expected that he would leave the area once his secret, _both_ of them, were revealed. It wasn't safe for him to linger in an area where he could be turned over to the aurors. Not knowing what she was capable of, or how angry she actually was, he wasn't wrong to be afraid for his safety.

"I'm not sure. I've stayed too long. It's not… I should really be going."

When he turned to walk away, her fingertips caught the fabric of his sleeve. It was too cold for him to be standing outside with nothing more than the light shirt. The gentle tug on his arm was enough to keep him from moving. Clearly he didn't really want to go. All it would take was a simple encouragement to get him to never leave.

Hermione had never been more conflicted. As angry and hurt as she had been by the man's actions, the thought of him walking away pained her to her very bones. They hadn't known each other that long, but she felt certain that she wouldn't be able to forget the man. Would she spend the next several decades of her life regretting the loss of the wizard she felt so close to in such a short period of time simply because he embarrassed her? What was the point of living if one wasn't capable of forgiving?

She knew it was the wine thinking for her when she pulled harder on his sleeve, encouraging him to step closer. When the haze and fog of her inebriation lifted, she would regret this. She knew it just as she knew she and Ron would never work out. But, imagining never seeing him again felt cruel.  
" _Why_ did you lie to me, Rod?"

He sighed, exhaustion evident in every line of his face. His hand slid through her tangled mess of curls to rest on the back of her head. Every bit of skin he touched erupted into goosebumps. She stared into his light green eyes, prepared to forgive him for anything and _everything_ just so long as he didn't leave.

"Because I wanted to be near you but I don't deserve you."

"Come inside. It's freezing out here."

The loss of his hand on the back of her head affected Hermione more than she wanted to admit. Losing the connection was upsetting, something she didn't want to experience again. With the click of the door shut behind him, she made a rash decision. If he was really going to leave for good, she wasn't going to waste her last chance.

* * *

Feeling Hermione's lips against his again caught Rodolphus completely off-guard. No matter how devious and delicious his drunken fantasies were for how their visit would go when he was crossing the distance between their two cottages, he never actually expected anything to happen. Certainly not for the charming witch to make the first move. She could be delightfully surprising.

Simply the taste of her mouth told him that she'd been drinking too. It would be wrong to take advantage of her in that condition. But, if _she_ was the one who kissed him first and he was also drunk, was that really taking advantage? Maybe she was the one who was overpowering his inhibitions instead of the other way around. Merlin knew that he could never think clearly when they were in the same room. Before he allowed their kisses to escalate beyond a point they couldn't return from, he gently pushed her away.

"I don't want you to do anything that you might regret, Hermione."

Her response was to untie the flimsy cloth belt holding her thin bathrobe shut. When the fabric pooled at her feet, confirming his suspicions that she was wearing nothing underneath, he worried that he was going to have a heart attack or forget how to breathe again. She took him by the hand, entirely without shame, and led him back to the privacy of the bedroom he still had dreams about.

Morning came too soon. After hours of exploring each other's bodies, remembering what they were beginning to forget, the sun began to creep over the horizon breaking the spell of the night. Rodolphus woke to the first rays peeking through the window. Forgetting where he was for a moment, he smiled when he realized the warm, heavy body pressed into his side wasn't a puppy. He was absolutely positive that he would never get used to waking up to the feel of Hermione's bare skin against his.

It was easy to push aside the discomfort that came with the headache plaguing him thanks to his excesses. What was a little pain for untold pleasure? As much as he knew that it had been foolish to behave so recklessly the night before, he was glad that the enchanting witch was able to accept his clumsy apology. Never in a thousand lifetimes did he expect to be back in her bed. Not as a man, at any rate. Before she knew his secret, he considered convincing her to adopt him as her pet.

"Rodolphus?"

The sound of her sleepy voice broke him out his dreams. Maybe this was going to be the first day of the rest of their lives together. In time, they might even be able to laugh about how desperate and _creepy_ he'd been in those weeks. It would all be a big joke. He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, ignoring the tickling of his nose from her untamable hair.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Get out."

He wasn't sure that he heard her correctly at first. After the night they shared, how could she possibly be so cold? Thinking that it was a cruel joke, but a joke nonetheless, he tried to keep his tone as mild and calm as possible.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Get. Out."


	14. Week Six

Week Six

Allowing Rodolphus back into her bed was the absolute worst mistake Hermione could've made. How were they supposed to move on if she kept pulling him back? Because they _had_ to move on. There was no future worth having that they could share. Pushing aside the painful fact that he had been lying to her from the very beginning, he was a fugitive. A _Death Eater_. Where would he even fit in to her life? They could never be openly together. She certainly couldn't introduce him to her friends who were the only family she really had left.

Waking up in Rodolphus' arms just felt _right_. Like she'd finally found the place where she belonged. All the more reason that she needed to break off what was happening as quickly and cleanly as possible. The longer they waited, the harder it would become. And it was already hard enough.

She would take full responsibility for the night that should've never happened. As much as she longed to blame the alcohol coursing through her for the terrible decision to invite the equally inebriated man inside her cottage, she couldn't. Stone cold sober she would've done exactly the same. All rationality and logical thinking escaped from her usually methodical mind when he was near. If she didn't know any better, she might've assumed she was under the power of a strong love spell or potent love potion. But she knew what she was feeling was real.

It didn't make much sense at all that she would fall so quickly and so thoroughly for the man. While some blame could be attributed to her heightened emotions and vulnerability following her complete breakdown at the Ministry, she knew that the results would have been the same even if the conditions were different. Something about the man made her feel so comfortable, much more relaxed than she had ever felt before with anyone else. When she stopped to truly consider the future, there were more reasons to throw caution to the wind than there weren't. That _had_ to be a sign that she wasn't thinking clearly.

As much as she might have liked to ignore all of the problems, she struggled to forgive him for lying to her. What else was he hiding? A man didn't go on the run for so many years without accumulating more secrets. If she allowed herself to entertain the possibility that they could move past the lies he already told, would she wake up one morning to find out there were more? Even if he promised her that she knew everything about him, she would still wonder if she could trust him or not. She'd already been married to a man she discovered she couldn't trust. Entering into a relationship with another one who had a history of lying didn't sit well with her gut. Not after the grief her soon-to-be ex-husband put her through and would likely _continue_ to put her through until their marriage was officially dissolved.

Hermione wished that she could take back what she did that night. Hearing Rodolphus out, accepting his apology would have been enough. Honestly, it would have been _more_ than he really deserved. No matter how much they both would like to forget the fact that he had a past, he did. Truthfully, he should've been back in Azkaban. A life sentence passed down from the Wizengamot wasn't something that should be easily tossed aside. So why did the thought of the gentle man returning to that wretched place fill her with such dread?

Shaking her head in a fruitless effort to dislodge the upsetting thoughts that continued to plague her, she discovered she had no answers. Nor was she likely to ever. Perhaps it had been cruel to kick him out of her bed that chilly Monday morning without giving him an explanation, but she couldn't afford to question her actions. Not when so much was at stake. If she allowed herself to go down that miry path, she would be trapped, forever unable to walk away from the wizard.

Rodolphus didn't cause much of a fuss when she repeated her command that he leave her at once. Likely a part of him had been expecting that sort of reaction all along. She only had to repeat herself once before he understood. Sliding out from underneath the covers they'd shared the night before, instantly she regretted her words. As she heard him pick up his discarded clothes from off the floor where she'd thrown them in the heat of their passion, she wanted to call after him to stop. She couldn't bear to open her eyes to see him walk out of her room. To do so would only encourage her to scream at him to come back.

She wasn't sure how long she continued to lay in the bed after the sound of the closing of her front door behind the wizard assaulted her ears. Long enough to feel every tear she was capable of producing roll out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Long enough to feel her eyes burn. Long enough for the spot where he'd spent the night to grow cold.

It was cruel to treat him so. She would never deny that fact. Maybe to outsiders her actions would make her seem indecisive and cold. They couldn't possibly know how it ripped her apart inside to cast him out. Surely she wasn't the only person in the entire world who made a poor decision when she'd been drinking. Alcohol muddied the waters. She had enough trouble thinking clearly around him when she was completely sober. No, outsiders could label her whatever they desired. It didn't matter to her what they thought. There was no one alive who hated her more in that moment than she hated herself.

* * *

Fantasies always had to come to an end. That was a lesson Rodolphus had had to learn time and time again. He would have liked to admit that he wasn't surprised by the turn of events the morning he woke up with the beautiful, young witch curled up in his arms, but he wasn't. A part of him would always assume that anything good that came into his life wouldn't last long. There was a long history of the world turning to complete shite for him when it seemed like everything was finally going his way. What might have turned other men bitter only served to reinforce the understanding he possessed that good things didn't always come to good people. And they certainly didn't come to people with a past marked with crimes and violence he would regret to the end of his days.

Before he stepped out of her bedroom and as he picked up his clothes she'd almost ripped in her passionate quest to remove only mere hours earlier, he stopped to take one last look at her lying in the middle of the bed. The sheets were still crumpled thanks to their enjoyable exertions. Two of the pillows were still on the floor where they fell after he threw her on top of the mattress and the bounce back up made her laugh. She'd reached out to grab onto the bed to keep from falling off and managed to push the pillows off. Even in the aftermath, when they were both so tired that there was no chance of anything further happening, neither of them thought to pick them back up. All he could see was her messy hair splayed across the white pillowcase. He feared that that would be the last glimpse of the woman he'd come to care very deeply for he would ever get. And it was far from being enough.

Closing the front door behind him after he took the time to dress in her front room hurt more than he expected. It felt so _final_. There would be no reason for him to ever come back over to her cottage. He'd done what he came to do. Whether she ultimately accepted his apology or not didn't matter. He'd offered it. She made her decision. Two words that would eat away at him for as long as he remembered her face. And he expected to _never_ forget it.

Millie could sense almost immediately that something was wrong when he pushed open his own front door. Sitting up from her pillow by the fire, she yawned, stretched, and hopped off to offer her master comfort. Mostly entailing leaning her entire body against his legs until he was almost knocked off his feet, he appreciated the effort nonetheless. Though she was quickly getting to be too big to carry, he picked her growing body off of the floor to wrap his arms around. Her enthusiastic lick to his face lifted his spirits. Not much, but a little. More than he expected. Part of him worried that he wouldn't ever be able to get over what just happened. But, he knew he was just being overly melodramatic. He'd survived worse than a bruised heart. If fifteen years in Azkaban didn't kill him, the loss of his friendship with the woman next door wouldn't either.

Besides, she would be leaving soon anyway. Her stop in the nearby cottage was only ever going to be temporary. The Minister only suspended her for six weeks. While it was a lovely fantasy to imagine that she would stay there longer, there had always been an expiration date on her time there. He knew that from the very beginning. Wishing otherwise was pointless. She had an entire life out there in the wider world that he could never be free to be a part of.

All he would ever be to her was a burden. Even if she fell out of bed, hit her head, lost all of her common sense, and decided to act on the foolish idea of remaining with him forever, they would never last. What kind of life could he offer her beyond hiding in the shadows and hoping that no one ever found them? He certainly couldn't meet any of her friends. Though she didn't speak of her family at all, he knew there must be _some_ sort of relatives she could claim out there too. Maybe the Muggles she could introduce him to without fear. Anyone who knew anything at all about the magical world? Not a chance. His face was well-known even after so many years of the general population believing him dead. One glimpse of his face by the wrong person would ruin both of their lives. Better that he only have to worry about himself.

More nights than he cared to admit to since she came into his life unexpectedly, he'd lain up in bed imagining a world where it was possible for the two of them to be together. Even that first night she arrived, after she sobbed into his fur, he dreamed about whisking her away to a place she'd never have to be in danger of such sadness ever again. Though he knew nothing about her, he wanted to protect her from the nastiness of the world. Surely somewhere outside of the country there was a place they could find peace and happiness together. It was a foolish dream, one that he knew he had to give up.

She was right to kick him out of her bed. He would bring her nothing but sorrow if he was allowed to stay in her life. Everything he touched turned to ash.

* * *

The last week of Hermione's forced sabbatical passed more quickly than it had any right to. As tempted as she was to run away from the area the moment Rodolphus exited her cottage, she was stubborn in her refusal to leave until her time was up. When she was first taken to the area six weeks earlier, she had no idea the rest and joy that she would find there. Not even considering meeting the wizard next door as that was still a sore subject to dwell upon, she couldn't remember when she'd last enjoyed a break so much.

Every single day of that week she had to remind herself that she would be making a mistake if she ran outside and forgot everything that passed between them to beg his forgiveness. Her dreams at night were filled with delicious fantasies of a world where they were free to be together and her days were filled with remembrances of the two nights they spent together that turned her cheeks bright red. Staying inside her own cottage was torture when her heart desired nothing less than what she saw in her head. It was easy to forget the difficulties, the _impossibilities_ , when she was lying in a cold, empty bed staring at the spot where she'd been fortunate enough to twice have a warm, affectionate wizard. Sleep usually only came in those last few nights after she'd consumed more wine than was healthy.

She didn't know what she was going to do once her six week forced holiday was up. Returning to the Ministry of Magic to her former position sounded like the worst possible fate. No one would ever take her seriously again. Not after she'd attacked two women so brazenly in front of so many witnesses. If she wasn't already a massive joke to her former coworkers after that incident, Rita Skeeter's dragging her personal life and failures through the mud likely did the trick. Though she might have been sacked at the Daily Prophet thanks to Rodolphus' interference, a wretched woman like that probably already had another job at a less prestigious publication. No doubt her anger at losing her job encouraged her to continue her campaign against Hermione.

Even with Kingsley as her supporter, she worried that her career at the Ministry was essentially over. Maybe she wouldn't be sacked immediately, but Hermione knew that there would be several who would never respect her again. Or they would live in constant fear that she would have another _episode_. Like a ticking time bomb, everyone would be waiting and watching for another incident. Years, possibly even decades would pass before what she did would be forgotten. Everyone loved juicy gossip. Thanks to her fame after the end of the war, she was made even more interesting than most. Chances for promotion would be slim. Any hope that she would one day become Minister for Magic were dashed. No one would support a loose cannon in the highest position in their government.

It surprised her that she was less afraid of her future and more excited for the opportunity to try something different. If she hadn't walked in on Ron at the absolutely worst possible moment so many weeks earlier, she might have been content spending the next several years of her life pretending like she didn't know what he was up to and working too much. What sort of joy could she find in an existence like that? For the first time, she really began to consider the possibility that her future might exist somewhere outside of the Ministry. In the past, that would have terrified her. She made plans for the rest of her life back when she was in Hogwarts. Once the war was over and she completed her last year at Hogwarts, she mapped it all out. Finding all of her plans to be completely useless was not nearly as upsetting as she assumed it would be. Somehow, she'd figure out where she needed to go, what she needed to do. Until then, she looked forward to cutting off the ties to her husband that had brought her nothing but misery for years.

She wished they had never gotten married. Not that Ron was a terrible person. He really wasn't. Yes, he'd made many mistakes throughout their marriage, but she certainly wasn't completely innocent herself. They just simply did not work well together and they made very little sense. Maybe if they'd listened to the tiny voice in the back of their minds telling them not to get married they would've been able to salvage their old friendship from the wreckage of their failed relationship. It was too late to hope that they could ever be friends again. With the loss of her husband, she knew it would only be a matter of time before she lost his family too. In the beginning, like she'd already determined, various members of his family would make an effort to retain something of their past relationships. Eventually, they would all drift apart.

It pained her to realize that she would lose her friendship with Harry too. She had no doubt that he would argue with her and state with complete conviction that that would never happen, but she knew better. As Ron's brother-in-law, a point would come where he had to choose. The two wizards had been friends longer and they were just as close as they had been in Hogwarts. Probably even closer. In her quest to rise to the top of the career she no longer believed she even wanted, Hermione distanced herself from all of her friends. Just as her schoolwork tended to take precedence in her life when they were young, she allowed her job to become more important than her friendships. Taking the six weeks to stop and really think about her life showed her that ugly truth. She couldn't even blame those who would take Ron's side in the inevitable divorce. Perhaps if she had been a better friend she would be able to count on more support.

And she couldn't exactly rely on _her_ family to provide her with any guidance. They were a topic that was better left undisturbed. She didn't expect to darken the doorstep of anyone related to her by blood ever again. There was too much history, too large of a barrier. When she first entered the wizarding world, she'd been appalled to learn how many Muggle-borns ended up eventually cutting ties with their Muggle relations. She couldn't understand why anyone would do something so drastic. Years later, she understood. Even when she tried her hardest to explain to her parents what life was like for her when she stepped into the other world she was now a part of, they _couldn't_ understand. Part of her still felt ashamed of the fact that removing her parents' memories before she left to go on the horcrux hunt with Harry and Ron was more of a relief than a hardship.

On her last day in the idyllic cottage, she tried to push away the uncertainties that plagued her about what she would do next. If she'd learned nothing in her life, she learned that worrying about a problem never solved it. Lots of people didn't know what they were going to do with the rest of their lives. While most people had at least _some_ idea of their hopes and goals for the futures, most of them were just taking life day by day. Her time away from the stresses of her everyday life taught her the importance of slowing down, of not worrying when she didn't know the answer to everything.

She didn't want to leave. Even with the awkwardness of the past week since she sent Rodolphus out of her bed, she found comfort there that she had never felt anywhere else. It was insulating, _safe._ When she stepped back out into the real world, she didn't know what she would find. And the thought of walking away knowing the wizard she'd come to care about very deeply was still there tore at her aching heart.

For days she tried and failed to avoid the kitchen window. Somehow she got it in her mind that if she didn't actually _see_ evidence that he was still there, she wouldn't think about him every single second of the day. As it turned out, not only did she think about him incessantly, she couldn't prevent herself from looking for him out that window. When she would catch herself staring, hoping that he would move in front of the glass in his cottage, she would pull away. All she was doing was prolonging her torture. Hadn't she already made up her mind? She couldn't afford to second-guess herself again.

When everything she owned was packed up and all traces that she'd ever been a guest in the cottage were missing, Hermione wasn't ready to go. A note sent through the Floo from Sada Shafiq, the owner of the cottage, welcomed her to take as long as she needed to clear out, but she knew she couldn't impose herself any further on her hospitality. Kingsley only offered the use of the cottage through the last Sunday of her six weeks. It seemed rude to linger longer than absolutely necessary.

By mid-afternoon, she was ready to leave. Before she turned her back completely on the cottage that had brought her joy and relaxation in a difficult time, she wanted to leave with a clear conscience. Leaving her packed bags just inside the front door, she stepped outside into the chilly air. Smoke rising from the chimney next door proved that he hadn't run away. Not yet. Taking a deep breath, she set her shoulders back and took the first steps toward Rodolphus' cottage since that night she discovered his darkest secret.

No one answered when she knocked. Worried at first that she hadn't knocked loudly enough due to her nerves, Hermione tried again. Still no answer. Not even a bark from within told her that someone was inside. Either no one was home or he didn't want to see her. She hoped desperately that it was the former. Even though she knew she hurt him, she couldn't leave without saying a proper goodbye. He'd been a good friend to her when she needed one. Further proof that she couldn't think clearly about anything to do with the man.

She hoped that he'd only gone down to the lake. If he went for a walk to the village, she wouldn't follow him. Not after meeting Andrew and the dirty trick he pulled telling her husband where she could be found. She didn't trust herself not to curse the man she believed to be nothing but a harmless Muggle if he crossed her path again. Setting her course for the edge of the lake where she'd spent many relaxing, happy hours, she tried to remain calm. Thinking about seeing Rodolphus again, especially for what was sure to be the absolute last time, made her nervous. What was she going to say? What would he say in return?

There wasn't enough time to come up with the perfect opening line. Long before she was ready, Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the happy barking of an excited puppy. She looked up just in time to see Millie run towards her at full-speed. Thankful for the immediate distraction from the man that was slowly walking in their direction, she took the opportunity to scratch the slobbering, jumping dog. The previous six weeks gave her the chance to question her long-held feelings about the merits of canines. Maybe she wasn't a dog person, but at least she didn't despise them as she had in the past.

"I'm beginning to think that she likes you more than she likes me."

"You're not jealous, are you?"

* * *

It took him a moment to realize that the enchanting witch was actually teasing him. Only seconds earlier he'd been lost in his own thoughts as he stared over the placid water. What he was thinking was always some variation of the same thought. And they always seemed to revolve around _her_.

"Maybe a little."

Her smile threatened to take his breath away. He felt a lurch in his stomach. Would that ever stop? Perhaps after years passed and he was an old man unable to remember much of the details of his past. Clearing his throat, Rodolphus tried to calm his racing heart. Knowing this could very well be his last interaction with Hermione, he wanted to make sure he didn't completely embarrass himself. After all, he struggled to think clearly when she was near. If he'd been smart, he would've left the country weeks earlier. But, even just the chance to see her again kept him from leaving more than once already.

An awkward silence fell between them. Which of them was more nervous would've been an interesting question to decipher. He didn't know what to say. Or, rather, he didn't know what was _appropriate_ to say. There was a great deal he wanted to tell her, but none of it was right to utter in that moment. Falling to his knees and begging the young woman with her entire life ahead of her to shackle herself to a dangerous fugitive like him would do her no favors. So, he searched his brain for a topic that was safe.

"Are you leaving today?"

He could've cursed himself for jumping straight to the topic he didn't want to consider. Weeks earlier when they were still on friendly terms, she told him that she would only be there for six weeks. Despite knowing it was foolish and perhaps a bit _creepy_ to do so, he kept track of how many days he could expect to have her living next door. All week as he tried and failed to think of a good reason to cross the short distance between their two cottages, he'd been painfully aware that the clock was ticking on her remaining time.

"Yes, I'm expected back at the Ministry in the morning, but there are a few things I need to do first."

It took a great deal of effort and self-control for him to not ask what she was referring to. He knew that eventually she would have to face her husband again. Remembering the last time they were in the same place made him wish he'd bitten the cretin a little harder. He hadn't even drawn any blood that day. Next time he wouldn't show any mercy.

But, he had to remind himself that he had no claim on the young woman. What she chose to do with the rest of her life was none of his business. Not matter how much it pained him, their brief window of time together had come and gone.

"Will you be staying here?"

Her question surprised him. Why would she care what his future plans were? He hadn't made up his mind yet completely. As dangerous as it was to remain, he didn't have the first clue where he would go if he left. For several years he'd been able to make his rented cottage a refuge from the rest of the world. If Hermione never showed up, he had no doubt that he would keep living there until there was a reason to flee. No one ever bothered him. But, having someone out there who knew his true identity put him at a risk that he just couldn't ignore.

"I haven't decided yet."

She dropped her eyes from his to stare somewhere off in the distance. He would've given every last knut in his vault to know what she was thinking in that moment. Whatever she desired, he would give it. Long, silent moments passed before she turned her head to meet his gaze once again.

"I would never tell anyone you were there, Rod. I wouldn't even tell anyone that I knew you were still alive."

There was no reason to doubt her sincerity. He believed she was telling the truth. Why she would continue to protect him after he'd proven himself to be so untrustworthy was beyond his understanding. Not once had he shown her anything redeemable or worth protecting. Some things he was sure he wasn't meant to understand.

"I've paid for the cottage through the end of the month. I have no plans to leave before then."

She granted him a small smile. His words appeased her for the moment.

"I should've come by sooner to apologize for the other morning."

Without thinking, Rodolphus' hand moved of its own accord to gently cup her cheek. Unable to look at him any longer, Hermione kept her eyes focused on the buttons on the front of his heavy coat. When she didn't flinch from his touch, he was emboldened to brush his thumb against her soft skin.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Hermione. _I_ shouldn't have allowed that night to happen. _I_ shouldn't have allowed either night to happen. You deserve better than someone like me."

Her watery eyes lifted again to meet his.

"But I…"

He moved his thumb over her lips, stopping her from saying something he knew she would come to regret. Unable to tear his eyes from her mouth, he didn't even try. Never would he allow her to take any blame for anything in those too-short weeks. He meant what he said when he took full responsibility. She had been vulnerable and he had taken advantage of that. Even if he didn't mean to, he had. His loneliness and selfishness overrode his good sense time and time again.

"You deserve nothing but joy, Hermione. I hope you find it one day with someone who is worthy."

Pressing his lips against her forehead and then walking away was by far the hardest moment of his life. Only a few steps away from the witch, he transformed into his animagus form for the first time in front of her. Needing to get away from her quickly before he made another foolish mistake, he lifted his massive paws in a sprint. His sensitive ears could still hear the sound of her soft crying long after he could no longer see her.


	15. Return to the Real World

**_Author's Note: Well, this story started off as a planned six chapters two years ago as a personal challenge. I never expected it to take this long to write or that it would end up two and half times longer than I expected. Those who know me well know that I didn't enjoy this challenge whatsoever (that's also why it took me so long to complete), but I'm glad it's done._**

 ** _Thank you to those who stuck around for so long even when it seemed I was never going to finish this story and a big thank you to all who supported me by reviewing and favoriting. As much as I always appreciate the enthusiasm when I finish a story, please forgive me for stating that there will not be a sequel or an epilogue. (This story was difficult enough to write and I have no desire to prolong the torture. Haha!) At least this is more than twice the size of a regular chapter!_**

 ** _I hope you enjoy the last chapter!_**

* * *

Return to the Real World

There was little point in remaining at the edge of the lake continuing to make a bloody fool of herself. Hermione was embarrassed that she allowed herself to cry where his excellent canine hearing could no doubt hear. She'd hoped as she made her way down the familiar path to where she thought she might find Rodolphus that she would be able to remain calm and collected. It would be a shame if his last memory of her was simply further proof that she was indecisive and incapable of trusting her own decisions. There was a time when she was once confident in everything she did not matter the tenseness of the situation.

Even just thinking that nonsensical thought brought a self-deprecating smile to her lips. Perhaps there were people out in the wide world who didn't really know her who might assume that was the truth. She spent most of her life projecting a sense of self-confidence to the rest of the world that she didn't actually feel inside. Her constant demand that she be the best at everything wasn't because she actually felt like she was. There had been a thirst to prove herself worthy of being a witch from the moment she picked up her first wand and an equally powerful fear that she would never belong. For many, _many_ years she'd been lying to herself, convincing herself that she was as confident as she pretended.

Not for a single moment was she forced to pretend she was more than she was with Rodolphus. He relaxed her in a manner few, if any, had been able to before. Maybe that was why she was so drawn to him. When she was with him, she never felt the urge to prove her worthiness. Either she was accepted or she wasn't. And he'd certainly made her feel accepted. At least when he wasn't running off in the middle of the night after their first kiss. Even then he returned and offered her an impressive apology.

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Hermione attempted to pull herself together. What would crying accomplish? What had it _ever_ accomplished before in her life? No longer able to see the animagus running in the distance, she turned her attention to the confused puppy sitting on her hind legs completely bewildered by the turn of events between the humans. She dropped to her knees to snuggle Millie and scratch her until she was no longer upset.

"Take care of him for me, Millie."

The puppy's bark and a lick to Hermione's face was her response. Part of her was tempted to pick up the growing dog and carry her away. She didn't want to imagine her life without the excited bundle of fur. It was possible her six weeks stay _might_ have turned her into something of a dog person after all. Certainly she could finally understand the appeal of opening her heart and her home to a dog.

But, she didn't exactly have a home to go back to. The flat she shared with Ron was the absolute last place in the world she ever wanted to spend another moment. He could have it, contents included. Wherever she chose to go, she'd start fresh. Besides, the thought of having Millie without Rodolphus was too depressing to consider following through on the theft. Every time she looked at the Saint Bernard, she would think of him. Giving Millie one more scratch behind her ears, Hermione rose to her feet. If she didn't leave soon, she was in danger of never being able to go. The pull to remain was too strong.

A gentle command kept the puppy from following her back up the path to the cottages. Hermione knew that eventually her master would come back to collect her from the edge of the lake. Each step that took her further away from the area where she knew Rodolphus still roamed became harder and harder. By the time she could see the cottages up ahead, she was half-convinced that she was making a terrible mistake in leaving. Knowing that she was only making it more difficult, she picked up her bags from inside the cottage, gave it one final look, and Disapparated away from the area.

Her feet landed in front of the entrance to Diagon Alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Without a proper home anymore, she needed a place to stay temporarily. She hoped that when she walked inside the popular wizarding tavern that she wouldn't be spotted by anyone who knew her. Based on what little she learned from Rodolphus, the press hadn't exactly been kind to her since she disappeared. Not that she expected any less. Rita Skeeter was a wretched cow.

Thankfully, very few patrons were inside the famous establishment when she entered. A short conversation with Tom the proprietor secured her a private room upstairs. She climbed the rickety, narrow stairs, ignoring everyone else. Once her bags were safely stowed in the room, she prepared herself for a visit she knew she didn't want to make. There would be no way to move on if she didn't.

She took her time checking her appearance in the mirror in her room before she stepped outside again. It was very important that she remain as calm and collected as it was physically possible to be. Arriving with red, blotchy skin and tear-filled eyes wouldn't send the right impression. She smoothed her unruly hair down as much as she could. Satisfied with her reflection and with an extra boost of confidence provided by the kind voice in the magical mirror encouraging her, she left her room.

The journey she took was one that she could've completed in her sleep. Over the years since she first arrived in the magical world aware that there were such things as witches and wizards, she had lost count the number of times she had gone to the familiar place. Once it felt like a second home to her, a place where she could always find comfort and rest when it was needed. Some of her happiest memories took place underneath its simple roof. A rush of reminiscences flooded her mind as she Apparated to the edge of the property's protective wards.

She would always love the Burrow with every fiber of her being. Never had she felt more welcome in a single place or with a single family. Even when she was still figuring out her place in the new, scary world she learned she was a part of thanks to some accident of birth, she never felt anything less than love and friendship in the quirky home of the Weasley family. Realizing that she was likely looking at it for the very last time ripped at her heart. She could feel the tears begin to accumulate in the corners of her eyes. Taking another deep breath and wiping at her eyes again, she crossed over the boundary.

Her appearance was a surprise to the only two Weasleys still in residence of the home. Not that either one of them would have let on that her unexpected arrival was anything less than a treat. She adored her in-laws. How many people in the world could be fortunate enough to say the same? Part of what she loved about Ron, once upon a time, was the family that he came from. Their relationships and interactions weren't always perfect, but she would've had it no other way. They were a _real_ family. One that she had been pleased to be considered a part of. Having to walk away from them all was a pain to her heart.

"Come on in, dearie, and I'll put the kettle on."

Molly bustled around the cozy kitchen, happily pretending for the moment that there was nothing strange or odd about her daughter-in-law's visit. On the surface to anyone who might have just been looking in on the pair, it would seem like an ordinary visit for tea. Not anything else. Hermione sat at the familiar table she'd shared countless meals with the family watching her mother-in-law do her best impression that the world was perfect.

"Arthur will join us in a few minutes. He's out tinkering in his shed again. Don't even ask me what he's up to. I'd rather not know."

It was a nice fantasy to believe that Hermione wasn't likely there for her last pot of tea. Or that this was probably the last time she would have the chance to spend a few minutes alone with the inhabitants. If she allowed herself, she could see years, _decades_ even, of holidays, birthdays, and simple Sunday afternoons enjoying each other's company in the home. When she lost the remnants of her family due to her actions and their inability to understand that what she did was for their own protection, she clung to the Weasleys. Perhaps she'd clung a bit too hard. Staying with Ron because of his family was wrong. While he hoped that a part of her could fill whatever hole he had in his heart from the losses of the war, she hoped that his family would fill the hole left behind by hers. Neither of them were right in expecting the other to complete them. Their marriage was doomed to fail from the very beginning even if they weren't able or willing to see so.

"I've been thinking a lot about you lately."

Molly Weasley was often misunderstood by those who didn't know her well. Though it was evident to everyone, including the woman herself, that she could be a bit bullish in her opinions, even if they were wrong, she had many excellent qualities that Hermione admired. She was fiercely loyal, almost to the point that it was a detriment. Simply _seem_ to hurt someone that she loved and that unfortunate soul would feel the wrath of her anger. Hermione herself had been the victim of that when she was younger. She'd forgiven the older witch for being so cold when there was a misunderstanding about her relationship with Harry during their fourth year. Molly admitted that she had been wrong many times over the years and begged Hermione for her forgiveness. When that fierce loyalty was turned around on someone else because of her love for her youngest daughter-in-law as it had on a few occasions over the years, Hermione couldn't hold an old grudge any longer.

"I'm sorry that I just sort of disappeared on everyone."

"No, no, dear. There's nothing to apologize for. Once Fleur assured me you were all right and then Kingsley confirmed it for me, I wasn't worried."

"You talked to Kingsley?"

"Of course I did! You don't think I'd just let him take one of my children off to some undisclosed location without getting some guarantee that you were safe and all right? He might be the Minister for Magic, but I've known him long before he was so important."

Hermione felt the corner of her mouth lift up into a smile. No, even the Minister for Magic wasn't immune from Molly Weasley when she was on a tear and determined to make certain one of her children was all right. It meant the world to Hermione that she considered her one of her own. Would she always feel that way? Or would their relationship crumble just as thoroughly as hers with Ron had? She didn't want to think about the future without the calming, and sometimes infuriating, presence of the woman across the table in it. But, she knew she would have to.

"Did your trip help you relax at all?"

Hermione wished she had someone she could truly confide in about what really happened while she was staying in the cottage. So much was going on inside of her that she felt like she might explode if she didn't tell someone. Unfortunately, as much as she loved Molly and truly cherished her advice, this was _not_ a subject to bring up to her mother-in-law, especially considering there was still hope that she could reconcile with her youngest son. Considering her depressing lack of friends due to years of pushing people away thanks to her obsessive need to work too hard, she wasn't even sure who she _could_ talk to about any of this. She wanted to know that she wasn't going completely crazy, that she was making the right decision. Even if she couldn't divulge _all_ of the details of her whirlwind romance and heartbreak with Rodolphus, she wanted to at least talk about some of it.

Knowing that she needed to keep her head straight and her thoughts focused on the real reason why she came to the Burrow, Hermione attempted to push all thoughts of the enigmatic wizard out of her head. All thinking about him was doing was making her even more confused. She couldn't afford to be distracted. Like ripping a plaster off in one go to keep from prolonging the pain, she knew it was best to just get it over with. Part of her was thankful that Arthur was still out in his shed full of his Muggle collection. She wasn't sure that she could say the words she needed to say with him looking at her with his disappointed expression.

"Yes, it helped a lot actually. I was able to get a great deal of thinking done."

"Good. I've found that taking a break can really help. Not that I was able to do much of that when my children were young, but now it seems that I have nothing but time alone."

Molly let out a wistful sigh. Though she had made her choices and seemed to be perfectly content in them, many times over the years Hermione felt a bit sad for the older witch. When her children were still living at home, she was kept in a constant state of busyness keeping them fed and clothed and otherwise cared for. As they one by one left their childhood home, she had become less and less vital to the running of her family. What had once been her great purpose was sadly no longer necessary. Sure, there were grandchildren to care for and she was glad to do so, but it would never be the same. That had been the kind of existence that Hermione always feared. Just like her Muggle mother, she never wanted to be stuck at home raising children. While that was fine for many women, it wasn't what she wanted.

"I made my decision, Molly. I'm terribly sorry to be a disappointment to you, but I'm afraid that I can't stay married to Ron."

The words came gushing out of her mouth in a torrent she couldn't control. She'd hoped before she came by to give her in-laws the bad news that she would be able to remain calm through the entire visit. Even if they weren't her parents by blood, she hated the very idea of disappointing them or upsetting them in any way. When Molly didn't say anything immediately in response to her hurried statement, Hermione feared that they were about to have a _heated_ discussion on their hands. They'd had many of those over the years about a variety of topics, both innocuous and quite serious. No doubt disgracing the Weasley family with the first divorce in family history was going to fall into the latter category. Nervous at first to look the family matriarch in the eyes, when she didn't say anything, Hermione hazarded a glance.

All she saw was the very same kindness that she'd seen each and every time Molly rushed over to their flat after she'd suffered another miscarriage. Hermione wasn't fair to her mother-in-law. She was opinionated and far too meddlesome in her adult children's relationships, but it truly came from a place of love. For every argument that they'd had over the years, there had been just as many heartfelt conversations alone that she cherished. When she was angry with her husband it was easy to lump his mother into her rage with him. While she might not have been the easiest at showing how much she cared, there was no doubt that she would be there to support those she loved with everything she was when it was necessary. Guilt stabbed at Hermione's gut at the the reminder that she'd not always been kind. Realizing she was losing the only mother she had left helped her forget how troublesome their relationship could be at times.

"If I've ever made you feel as if you were a disappointment to me, Hermione, I beg you to forgive me."

Molly's hands reached across the table to grasp each of Hermione's. Startled at first by the woman's statement and the affectionate gesture after revealing her plans to divorce her son, the younger of the two witches didn't know what to say. All words seemed to have temporarily exited her mind. She was unable to form a coherent sentence. Thankfully, while she composed herself, Molly kept speaking.

"All I've ever wanted for my children, _all_ of my children, was for them to be happy."

"And you're not disappointed that I want to divorce Ron?"

She squeezed her hands gently as she sighed. The tension in the room began to rise just a little bit. Hermione worried that the rest of their conversation wasn't going to go as well as the beginning. If she was completely honest with herself, she'd half-expected the entire discussion to be conducted in Molly's screams of anger and frustration. She never imagined that either of them would remain so calm for so long.

"Of course I'm disappointed, dearie. Very, _very_ disappointed. I'd imagined such a lovely future for the two of you. While you were aware that I wasn't in favor of any of you marrying so young and so quickly, I hoped that everything would work out in the end. But, Hermione, I want you to be happy. And I want Ronald to be happy. It's been obvious for the past few years that neither one of you are happy together."

"Ron said that you wanted him to do whatever was necessary to make it right because no one in the Weasley family had ever been divorced."

Her second sigh was filled with more frustration than sadness. Taking a moment to exhale and gather her thoughts, Molly didn't immediately respond. Hermione worried that the moment she feared was finally happening. And it had been such a pleasant conversation! She had been more than a little surprised that they were both able to remain calm for so long without blowing up at the other. Perhaps they were setting a new family record.

"As his wife, I'm sure you are all too familiar with how Ronald tends to not listen to what you say and instead hears what he _wants_ to hear."

"Well, yes…"

"It's not entirely his fault. Most men are like that. Godric knows he gets some of that from his father, but _no_ , that is _not_ what I told him. I told him that he should've been trying to make it right between the two of you for the entire length of your marriage, that ignoring the problems until they couldn't be ignored any longer was how marriages ended and wouldn't it be a shame to be the first Weasley to ever go through a divorce? I know that horrible woman Arthur's younger brother is married to will be overjoyed to hear the news."

The over-exaggerated roll of her eyes made Hermione laugh. The two sisters-in-law had never gotten along in the decades that they'd been married to brothers. While she didn't personally have any issues with her husband's aunt by marriage, Hermione knew that the woman in question could be a tad overly proud when it suited her purposes. Yes, she would be the sort of person to gleefully spread gossip behind their backs about the 'shame' of the other side of the Weasley family.

"I'm sorry to be the cause of that."

"No, Hermione. There is nothing for you to be sorry about. Did you know I always thought my parents should've gotten divorced?"

That was certainly news to Hermione. Both of Molly's parents were dead long before she ever met the Weasley family. Something about an outbreak of dragon pox when she was a child. It was a disease that often struck down the elderly who were less able to fight it off. Ron didn't remember much about them. His memories weren't very clear. He'd been very young when they died within weeks of each other.

"No Prewetts have ever gotten divorced either, but there were quite a few that _should've_ in my opinion. My parents couldn't stand each other. Always bickering and fighting. While they only just annoyed each other before, after my brothers were killed by Death Eaters, they grew to loathe the very sight of the other."

She spoke calmly about her twin brothers, Gideon and Fabian, being murdered by the followers of Lord Voldemort, but Hermione felt her stomach twist into knots at the mention. It had been less than a week since she'd last invited a former Death Eater into her bed. What would Molly think of her if she knew that? She doubted she would be trying so hard to assure her that she only wanted her to be happy and that she wasn't a disappointment. Likely she would toss Hermione out of the Burrow on her arse with instructions that she never return again.

"No one should spend their lives miserable, Hermione. No one. I wish that you and Ronald would have been able to make it work, but I'm also realistic. Better that you move on from each other than end up bitter and angry like my parents. Perhaps if they'd ignored what was customary, they might have had the opportunity to find happiness elsewhere. For all I know, they could both still be alive today."

Every word that came out of Molly's mouth was a complete surprise to Hermione. She might have been full of useful advice over the years when they had had other conversations, but something about this discussion would always stick out in her mind. She'd been vulnerable with her, shared information about her family that she never would've heard from anywhere else. The confrontation that she was afraid would turn out so terribly, wasn't unfolding at all like she expected.

"I want you to find your own happiness, Hermione. Just as I want Ronald to find his. As much as you might both care for each other, and I don't imagine that's changed all that much, you aren't a good fit for each other. I wish I could say that this was all a surprise to us, but it's not."

Molly released her hold on Hermione's hands to stand to her feet. Following her lead, when she stood, she found herself enveloped in the older witch's arms again. She tried to push away the thoughts that this would likely be the last time that she was able to hug the woman. It was a sad thought. She was grateful for Arthur's entrance into the kitchen a few moments later. Not only did it give her the chance to step out of the embrace to hug her father-in-law, but it greatly changed the atmosphere of the entire house. Gone was the tension. With Arthur present, they were able to continue having a serious discussion about the future, but one less fraught with such anxiety.

She didn't remain much longer at the Burrow after that. It was important to Hermione that she say her goodbyes to the witch and wizard who had selflessly stepped in to be her parents when she found herself without any. They would always hold a very special place in her heart. After making her promises that she would still make an effort to come visit them when she wished, she walked to the edge of the property for what she was sure would be the very last time. She made one final survey of the place that had played host to some very happy memories for her over the years before Disapparating away to a future that was still so uncertain.

* * *

He was out of breath before he stopped running. What possessed Rodolphus to go so far was unclear even to him. He didn't usually like to stray too far from the cottage, especially not if Millie was left alone. She could get into trouble faster than any other creature he knew. But, putting enough distance between himself and Hermione was necessary to keep from behaving like a complete and utter lovesick fool. She deserved better than what he could offer.

A delightful fantasy took root in his heart the first time he saw her sitting on those steps crying. He would whisk her away from all of her problems to a place where they could be free to be happy together. For as long as she'd allow him, he would spend every moment doing whatever was necessary to make her smile. Where they would live wasn't important. It would have to be another country, of course. Beyond that one requirement, there were infinite possibilities for their future plans. He would do _whatever_ she asked just so long as he never had to see or hear her cry again. That was unbearable. He felt so helpless, especially when he was the source and cause for her grief.

But, he understood all too well that his fantasy could never come true. Outsiders could call him whatever insulting name they could think of and it still wouldn't matter. She deserved better than a fugitive Death Eater on the run from his violent past. Maybe in the beginning they could run away and have some grand adventure together… at least for a little while. Eventually, the novelty of their new life would wear off and she would come to resent it, resent _him_. Being stuck in another relationship with a woman who didn't truly want to be there sounded unbearable. Rodolphus wasn't sure he had the fortitude to endure that nightmare again. Sharing a life with someone else who didn't want to be there was torture for both parties. Hadn't she already suffered enough? He knew he had.

Once he was able to catch his breath, he turned his ears to listen for more sounds of the witch at the edge of the lake. Either she was gone or he'd simply travelled to far away to hear. Turning around, he began retracing his steps at a much slower pace. The closer he got to the lake, the more he was convinced she'd left. He felt like a fool for how he said his goodbyes.

There was no sense in regret. He couldn't change the past no matter how hard he wished. She deserved better than him. This was just more evidence of that fact. Maybe by allowing her to leave in such a way would keep her from second-guessing herself and wanting to come back. If she ever did, he knew he would be powerless to refuse her.

Millie was still sitting where he'd left her to his immense relief. Every day she was showing signs of rapidly developing intelligence, but she was also displaying an aptitude for mischief. He was glad she hadn't fallen into the water or chased after Hermione. At his approach, she removed her gaze from the path home to look at her newly returned master. A mournful whine from her threatened to rip his heart out of his chest. He understood what she was feeling all too well. Transforming back into a man, he scooped up his dog in his arms to snuggle.

Several minutes passed of him doing nothing more than staring out over the land he'd made his home for the last few years. He'd found a large measure of peace there he never expected. It was going to be difficult to leave. As much as she hated to think so, it was no longer safe. Hermione knew his true identity and his location. What if she had a crisis of conscience later? He couldn't exactly blame her if she turned him in. After all, he was a very dangerous criminal. He _belonged_ in Azkaban no matter what he tried to convince himself of otherwise.

Setting Millie down on her paws to her great disappointment, Rodolphus took a deep breath. He couldn't avoid the cottage forever. The walk up the familiar path never seemed to take so long before. Time threatened to stand perfectly still. When he finally arrived, he could tell she was gone. The entire area was eerily quiet. It saddened him to know that he would never see her walk out of her front door again or pass by the kitchen window.

Millie's bark broke him out of his depressing thoughts. She had her attention focused on the front door, her tail wagging furiously enough that he worried she might topple over. Maybe she hadn't left yet like he feared. He could have one more chance to say goodbye to her without completely embarrassing himself again. She deserved an apology for his rude behavior. The knob turning and the door beginning to open made him smile. There was still time.

"Hello there, Rod. How are you?"

His smile slipped when he realized it wasn't Hermione at all. Sada Shafiq returned his initial smile, a knowing twinkle in her remarkable eyes. He always got the impression she was more perceptive than she let on. Clearing his throat, he replied with an inane assurance that he was perfectly all right. Annoyed that she was the wrong witch, he resumed his walk home.

"I was just inspecting the cottage, making sure everything was in order."

Either she missed that he was eager to get away or she simply didn't care. Sada stepped down the front stairs to block his retreat. A stunning witch, he had to concede the fact that his younger brother always had exceptional taste in women. There was a time when he first moved into her cottage that he wondered what it might be like to make their relationship a little less professional.

In the end, he changed his mind. She was intimidating, never one to share exactly what was on her mind. He couldn't afford to let an intelligent Slytherin from an influential family in his life any more than was absolutely necessary. Sometimes, like in that exact moment, he got the strong impression that Sada wouldn't be opposed to an invitation from him into her bed he rented.

"Where are you running off to in such a hurry?"

"Just home, Sada."

He wasn't in the mood. She was always a very nice woman and over the years they'd had several interesting conversations, but something about the way she was looking at him failed to put him at ease. Rodolphus felt suspiciously like a helpless fly being drawn into a spider's web. Sada wanted something from him and she was about to use all of her best weapons against him to get whatever it was. Deciding to give her a few minutes of his time, he didn't rush off immediately.

"Did you have a chance to meet the guest who was staying here?"

A frustrated sigh came out of his mouth before he could stop it. Of course she would be interested in gossip about Hermione. No doubt she was part of the biggest scandal of recent months. Sada wanted insider information. The tiniest bit of respect he always felt for the woman began to dim just a little. Rodolphus wasn't going to lie, but he certainly wasn't going to tell her the complete truth. As the cousin of the Minister for Magic, Sada understood that there were some topics that she couldn't necessarily sell to interested newspapers. That wouldn't stop her from sharing what she knew in her private circles of acquaintances and friends. _No one_ deserved to have their privacy invaded, especially not Hermione. She'd suffered enough thanks to her husband.

"Yes, I spoke with her a few times. Mostly she kept to herself."

"Did she tell you anything _interesting_?"

"Afraid not. Like I said, she mostly kept to herself."

Sada visibly deflated at his answer. Her pretty lips pouted in her disappointment. A large part of Rodolphus was glad to be able to keep Hermione's secrets away from people who had no business knowing them. Not that Sada was a bad person in the slightest. She was simply curious about the scandalous affairs of others. People all over the world loved to read about the misfortunes of others, especially those who were famous, in magazines and newspapers. Even if Hermione was no longer a part of his life and had only been there for a very short period of time, he was honored to keep her secrets. No one would hear idle gossip about her come out of his mouth.

"When you talked to her, did she tell you whether or not she was getting a divorce?"

"Excuse me?"

He was beginning to get angry. This was no one else's business. Why did this woman care if Hermione's marriage was crumbling or not? Clearly not catching the note of anger that was steadily rising in his words and the reddening of his neck, Sada continued on.

"Oh, that's a pity. Bookmakers in Knockturn Alley are accepting bets on whether or not they get divorced and when it happens. I was hoping you had some inside information to help my chances."

Few times in his life had he ever wanted to strangle a woman so strongly. Most of them involved his late wife. He couldn't believe Sada was talking so openly about placing money down on whether or not someone's marriage would fail. How barbaric had their world gotten in the years since he'd been locked away in Azkaban? If _that_ was how their society behaved, he was glad he kept to himself. It was appalling. Knowing that there were hundreds of others just like Sada out there placing actual bets on other people's lives made him so disgusted that he knew he couldn't remain in her presence much longer. Not if he wanted to keep from repeating some of his crimes as a Death Eater.

"Honestly, Sada, even if I _did_ know something about her marriage, I wouldn't tell you. That's disgusting. They're actually taking bets?"

"I know. It's horrible. You weren't a Slytherin, were you, Rod?"

He rolled his eyes. Thanks to the spells he'd carefully crafted when he first approached her years earlier to live in her holiday cottage, she was only able to remember vague details about their previous conversations. A few times, when he allowed their conversation to go on for too long, she got dangerously close to figuring out his true identity. He'd had to obliviate her a couple of times for his own peace of mind. If he allowed their conversation to continue, he worried he would have to do the same.

"Slytherin or not doesn't matter. I wouldn't bet on another person's marriage."

It was a Lestrange family tradition that they all get Sorted into Slytherin. As much as he desired to be in _any_ other Hogwarts House, eleven year old Rodolphus begged the Sorting Hat to put him in the same House that generations of his family were placed in. He didn't want to imagine the shame that his parents would feel if he ended up elsewhere. Self-preservation and the desire to follow the traditional path of his family was enough to get him the proper response from the old hat. But, regardless, he meant what he said. Even if he possessed every single trait of a proper Slytherin, he still wouldn't understand why the woman thought it was perfectly acceptable to place bets on something so appalling. Just because she saw the opportunity to make a few galleons using less-than ethical means didn't mean what she was doing was acceptable.

"I will be leaving at the end of the week. It's time I moved on."

His announcement startled them both. He knew that he was eventually going to have to move on, but part of him could see the appeal of lingering a little while longer. Just long enough to drive himself completely mad with the possibility that Hermione could return. It was foolish to stay. Sada's reminder of the ugliness of his fellow witches and wizards made him suddenly long for a fresh start somewhere else in the world. Maybe there existed places where the inhabitants were actual kind to each other. Wouldn't that be a pleasant change?

"All right, Rod. I'm sorry to be losing you, of course, but I understand. I will be back in a few days."

She made her excuses to leave. Rodolphus whistled to Millie to follow him into their cottage. It was time to pack up their belongings again. This time, he wasn't going to unpack them again.

* * *

The first day back at the Ministry was always going to be stressful. Hermione knew that all along. When she rose from her bed in the Leaky Cauldron after a restless night of very little sleep, she knew it would be best to just get it over with. Nothing about her life was ever going to be the same again. It was time that she faced her new reality.

Once upon a time she actually looked forward to going into the Ministry each morning. She also loved to stay long after most everyone else went home. There was a peace she could find in her work that she couldn't at home. She knew that should've been a sign that she should change how she was living. Too little, too late. The past couldn't be changed. She had to make do with the present her decisions and mistakes created.

Her return was was met with a great deal of curiosity. Only steps inside the Atrium she felt eyes on her, watching every single move she made. Some of the other Ministry officials sought her out to speak to her and ask how she was doing. It all felt a bit odd and forced. None of them were her friends. Why would they care enough to ask after her when they used to be so content to ignore her existence? It was unnerving.

Even in her own department she felt like a curious spectacle. Where her office once felt like her private sanctuary, it rapidly began to feel more like her prison. Almost immediately after arriving, she noticed a surge of activity just outside her door. Were they all out there just to get a glimpse of her? Maybe they were hoping for a repeat performance of her last breakdown. Whatever it was, she wished they would stop. She was struggling to remain there as it was. They were _not_ helping.

All she wanted to do was go back to the cottage that had been her home for the past six weeks and hide. It had been so peaceful there. Nothing at all like returning to the Ministry. She missed the ability to take long walks and long naps without fear that someone she didn't like was going to say something nasty to her.

Mostly though, she missed Rodolphus. There was no reason for her to deny the truth. Every moment she wasn't with him, she missed him. How was it possible that he was able to make such an impact on her in such a short time? It made no sense. She knew it was crazy to imagine there being even the slightest possibility that they could ever manage to make a relationship work, but she could think of very little else she desired. Even assuming they _could_ work, how would they live? They couldn't be open about their relationship. Not without the very likely possibility of Rodolphus being sent back to Azkaban and she being charged with the crime of aiding a fugitive. Her friends and family would certainly never accept her decision to make a life with a former Death Eater.

It was a miserable day. Long before it was over, she was ready to run away. Her assistant tried her best to bring her up to speed about everything she missed during her forced sabbatical to no avail. Hermione's mind kept wandering, unable to stay focused on anything the poor woman said. How she used to find her work so fascinating and fulfilling in the past was a mystery. Had she really changed so much in six weeks? Or would she just need some time to adjust to her normal routine again?

By lunchtime, she was convinced that she would _never_ be able to slide back into a normal existence working at the Ministry of Magic. Every single piece of parchment that crossed her desk threatened to bore her to tears. All morning long there was a steady stream of visitors who made ridiculous excuses to stop in for a chat. None of them were her friends, none of them wanted to speak to her before she left. Why was she suddenly so popular? Ordinarily, her coworkers did their best not to make eye contact with her in the lifts for fear that she would corner them into a conversation about werewolf rights that they didn't care to have. Now, several of them were bold enough to ask her outright if she was planning on following through with her divorce to Ron and if so, when did she expect to file the required paperwork? It was all bizarre.

She declined three different invitations from people she hardly knew to join them for lunch in the Ministry canteen. Needing just a few minutes of peace, Hermione closed the door to her office. While under no delusions that a closed door was going to deter everyone, she hoped that it might at least give the impression that she was no longer inside her office long enough to give her a break. The weeks spent at the cottage gave her ample opportunity to think about what she wanted her future to look like. Hiding in her office was _not_ one of the options.

A knock at the door ruined all plans for a quiet lunch break. She didn't speak or even dare to breathe in the hopes that whomever it was would eventually give up and go away. After a third knock and then a fourth, she got the impression that they were too tenacious to give up. Considering very seriously about casting a disillusionment spell on her body and hiding under her desk for the rest of the day, Hermione was desperate. Would it _always_ feel like this?

"Hermione, it's Kingsley. I know you're in there."

It was bad form to deny the Minister for Magic access to her office. Considering his lofty position within their government, she wouldn't have been surprised to discover that he had the authority to demand an audience with whomever he wished whenever he wished as long as they were employed by the Ministry. Kingsley was never one to throw around the weight of his power for selfish gain. It was one of the main reasons why he'd remained so popular since the beginning of his first term.

"Come in."

The Minister let himself in. There hadn't been a chance to see him yet that morning. Too many other people were demanding her time and he was always a very busy wizard. Even though they worked in the same building, it wasn't uncommon for entire months to pass without their paths even crossing. She wasn't surprised to see him. No doubt he was worried just like everyone else that she was on the verge of another breakdown. He didn't even wait for an invitation to take a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk. Clearly, this was a visit that was going to take more than a few moments.

"How was this morning, Hermione?"

She assured him, unconvincingly, that it was all right. What else could she say? That she was seriously considering throwing away the life that she'd spent years building for the unknown? It wasn't like her to not have a plan thought out in great detail. Kingsley, along with everyone else in her life, would accuse her of behaving out of character to just drop everything and run. For the first time in her life, she was surprised to discover that she cared less and less what everyone else thought.

"I hope you were able to relax at Sada's."

Nodding her head, a thought came to her. The night before when she had been seated at Molly's kitchen table, she desperately wanted to talk to someone she trusted about what was happening in her life. Molly was the wrong choice. As kind as they'd always been to her, none of her sisters-in-law were the right person either. She wanted to speak to someone that she trusted, someone that she could rely on to give her sound advice. Someone like Kingsley. It was time to lay it all on the table. Or, at least, everything she could that _wouldn't_ end in someone she cared about ending up in Azkaban.

"I'm afraid that I enjoyed staying there a little too much."

His handsome face split into a wide grin.

"Hard to come back to the real world then?"

"Very."

She sighed, unsure really where to begin. Most of her life she had been careful with who she confided in and what she revealed. Even with Ron and Harry she held herself back. Sometimes, especially when they were all still in school together, she didn't want to share her thoughts and fears because she got the impression that she annoyed them or that they didn't really care. Years of feeling like no one actually wanted to hear her speak about herself made it so she still felt awkward turning even the slightest bit of any discussion in her direction.

"I'm not sure that I want to stay, Kingsley."

"In the Ministry? Or is it more than that?"

"I've… well, if I must be perfectly honest, I've met someone."

His smile didn't dim. Truly it was criminal that one man could be so attractive. Hermione had always been jealous of the people who were just naturally beautiful. She had to put a great deal of effort into her appearance to be half as attractive. Usually it wasn't worth the effort. Perhaps that had been one of the problems that compounded her difficulties with Ron. The less she seemed to care how she looked, the more frustrated he would get with her. He'd always been attracted to the women who spent _too_ much time making themselves look like someone they weren't. He should've known what he was getting into when they married. She had no desire to look like one of the women on the cover of Witch Weekly.

"And is this someone that I know?"

Of course she couldn't tell him the truth. If she admitted that he spent the earliest years he was an auror in the Ministry searching for and fighting wizards like Rodolphus, they would both be in trouble. Kingsley might have considered her a friend, but he wasn't about to shirk his duties. Given the opportunity to catch a Death Eater, he would do it without hesitation.

"No, you've never met him."

"Then how can I be sure that he's worthy of you?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically and sighed while he laughed. Part of their friendship usually consisted of him teasing her in some goodnatured way. It was always easy with him. She wished she had more friends like Kingsley. Maybe she wouldn't be in such a rush to throw her life away and start over if she did.

"You'll just have to trust me."

Kingsley grew suddenly serious. No more traces of teasing were left on his face. Hermione was glad. She wanted his advice.

"Are you really considering walking away from your life here to spend it with a man you've only just met?"

"I've already rejected him _twice_ because I'm afraid that our worlds shouldn't mix. But, even when I've pushed him away thinking that it's best for both of us, all I want to do is run back to him and beg his forgiveness. It's madness."

"All love is madness to a certain degree."

It was the first time she really considered that she might be in love with Rodolphus Lestrange. Was it even possible to fall in love so quickly? With Ron, she'd been his friend for years. The love had grown gradually just as it had also dissipated. Surely she hadn't known Rodolphus long enough to think of him so seriously. She was only considering what it might be like to _think_ about creating a future with him. Hermione covered her face with her hands. She was frustrated with her inability to think clearly about the wizard. Why was she so irrational when it came to Rodolphus? She _should_ have turned him in the moment she knew who he was. Was it fair to either of them to even fantasize about a future? Was she willing to give up everything just for the possibility of love?

"It's very complicated, Kingsley. I'm not even sure how to explain it properly."

"There's no need. I think I understand. This is a decision that all Muggle-borns inevitably must make. Do you try to integrate both worlds in some sort of slipshod fashion? Or do you make a decision to walk away from one world entirely?"

Confused at first, it became clear. Of course Kingsley wouldn't assume that she was talking about loving a former Death Eater. He believed that the man she met while she was on her holiday was a Muggle. It made sense. Despite what some members of their society might have everyone else believe, it wasn't always a seamless process for a witch or wizard to marry a Muggle. She thought about all of the funny stories Seamus Finnegan used to tell about his parents' courtship and marriage. His Muggle father was _still_ learning how to cope with his daily interactions with the magical world. He appeared to take everything in stride, but she knew it hadn't been an easy transition for anyone.

More than a few times she considered turning her back on the magical world to return to her Muggle roots. It seemed easier. No one knew her in her old world. She wasn't a war heroine whose best friend was the Chosen One. The promise of the anonymity was intoxicating. Meeting a man who knew nothing about her past was a thrilling prospect. To simply be herself without fear that she was being used by a social climber sounded amazing.

"You just met this man, Hermione, but do you think you could be happy with him? If you stopped overthinking it and allowed yourself to be happy that is?"

She didn't have to think about her answer. Almost immediately she nodded her head. She had always been her own worst enemy. Overthinking and overanalyzing and worrying rarely worked out in her best interest. It was why she kicked Rodolphus out of her bed that morning a week earlier. Fear was more powerful than hope. But only if she allowed it to be.

"Then you owe it to yourself to find out if there's a future worth having there."

Kingsley rose from the chair. In only a couple of strides of his legs he was behind her desk. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"Take all of the time you need, Hermione. It's evident you're not ready to come back to work here. I'm afraid you might _never_ be ready to be back here."

There was no sense in arguing with the truth. From the moment she stepped into the Atrium that morning, she was ready to turn around and run back outside. What joy she once felt working tirelessly in her causes for equal rights for house-elves and werewolves existed no longer. Maybe eventually she could rekindle the passion she once had, but everything was different. She was restless, ready to make a change. Imagining decades of the same day over and over brought on a crushing sadness she couldn't shake.

"Think about it. Whatever decision you make, I will support. Just so long as you're certain."

Hermione stood up to embrace the Minister. For the first time in the miserable day, she felt the weight of her future lift ever so slightly off her shoulders. She was grateful that they had the opportunity to talk. As she watched him leave her office, she made a decision.

* * *

Mondays always felt just like another other day to Rodolphus. Without a proper job, one day was pretty much exactly like the next. Many times throughout the years he was on the run he had trouble remembering what day it was. Truthfully, it never really mattered.

On the day Hermione returned to the Ministry for her first day back to work after her emotional breakdown, he thought of nothing else but how she was faring. He was worried. Not that she would arrive at her old job and decide to turn him in, though that was certainly a valid concern. He was more worried about how _she_ was doing, how she was being treated by everyone else. Was she happy? Relieved to be back in a familiar setting? Or anxious to leave for another adventure?

He was concerned that her husband was free to bother her now that she was no longer being protected by her neighbor's dog. With more witnesses and them both being reluctant to create a public scene, was he bothering her? Begging her to rethink her decision to leave? While Rodolphus didn't _think_ she would fall for that, he had been wrong before. It was always possible that time away from her husband showed her what she would miss without him in her life. For some wives, that would be enough to forgive their remorseful spouse.

Sada's appalling behavior the previous day also upset him. The very idea that bookmakers were accepting bets about Hermione's impending divorce was disgusting. Was she aware of what was happening? How many people were approaching her that day to see if they could get some information that no one else had just to make a few galleons? He had half a mind to risk being caught just to go down to Knockturn Alley and make a few wizards with questionable moral standards wish they'd never been born.

In an effort to keep his mind occupied, he made sure that all of his possessions were packed again. He had had so much practice over the past few weeks that it hadn't taken him long. Sitting in his rented cottage with everything he owned packed up neatly in a single, small, magically-enlarged box was a bit sad. Millie didn't like the changes. Every opportunity she had to let him know so, she did.

He wasn't sure if he was going to make it to the end of the week before he had to leave. Knowing that Hermione was gone, he could barely stomach the place any longer. Everything he could see or touch simply reminded him of her. Remaining would only bring him even more agony. He already made sure that Sada was paid through the end of the week. Whenever he wished, he could just step outside and leave.

Starting over was a terrifying prospect. It wasn't that long ago that he was wandering around the country trying to figure out what he was going to do next. He had no allies he could rely on. The only family member he had was locked up in Azkaban. It had taken him time to settle in to Sada's cottage. Always afraid that he was on the verge of getting caught, he wasn't able to relax at first. Any connections that he might have been able to rely on outside of the country were unreliable. He would be on his own. But, it was for the best. No one deserved to be dragged into danger with an association with him.

He sat at the kitchen table with a small stack of correspondence that had been waiting for him down in the village. Since the purchase of the Daily Prophet, he was shocked to discover how much of his attention was required to run the damn thing. His solicitor forwarded any messages he received through the Muggle post. The wizard was willing to ignore anything his clients did so long as his retainer was paid promptly every month. Finding one with scruples was impossible when he was a fugitive.

Most of the messages were requests from the editor to be allowed to include articles about Hermione in their paper again. His editor was adamant that they were missing out on some very important stories because of his unusual ban. Rodolphus politely, but firmly, responded that his orders on the matter were to be followed without question. He was free to continue to send articles for approval, of course. Not that Rodolphus had any intention of ever approving any of them. That, however, was not something that he would ever openly admit to.

He was in the midst of scrawling out a response to another concern of the editor that they should begin printing a weekly column about traveling in wizarding vacation destinations to keep up with their competitors when he heard the knock at the door. Millie, awake after her latest fit of whining made her sleepy, hopped off the sofa. She barked at their unexpected visitor through the closed door. Her tail began to wag at a furious pace. Rodolphus found her behavior to be odd. Usually, she didn't care when anyone came to visit. It was such a rare occasion that she didn't know what to do.

A second knock, more insistent than the first, was the encouragement he needed to stand to his feet. He hadn't the foggiest idea who it could be. Perhaps Sada was there again to inform him that a new tenant was to be expected. Or maybe she hoped that he would be a bit more amenable to her impertinent questions. Dealing with the witch wasn't high on his list of activities that he wished to complete that day. Taking his time to cross the floor to the front door, he pulled it open, never dreaming who he would find.

"I don't ever want to go back to the Ministry again."

Still completely in shock that the witch he desired more than any other was standing only centimeters away, Rodolphus stared at her for longer than was polite. When they said their uncomfortable goodbyes the day before he never expected to see her again. There was no reason for her to return. Clearing his throat and attempting to harness some measure of control over his racing heart, he stepped back in a silent invitation for her to step inside out of the cold.

"What did you say?"

"I never, _ever_ want to go back to the Ministry again."

"Was it that terrible?"

She was on the verge of tears. He wished that he had the right to wrap his arms around her and offer her comfort. That wouldn't be wise. Each of them had already proven that they couldn't be trusted to think rationally around the other.

"So much worse."

"What happened?"

A desire to rush off to the Ministry to crush whomever _dared_ to hurt his witch welled up inside of him. Damn Azkaban! He would stop at nothing to inflict pain on those responsible.

"I realized that I don't want that life anymore. It was… _suffocating_."

He could understand that feeling. Even before he was locked away in Azkaban for the rest of his natural life, he understood what it felt like to be living a life that was slowly choking the life out of him. Being married to Bellatrix was an absolute nightmare starting in their second year of marriage. Knowing that he would never be able to divorce the woman made it all so much worse. All he could imagine was a lifetime stretching out before him of misery and agony. Was it any wonder that he'd allowed himself to be thrown into Azkaban without requesting any leniency? There was nothing left for him.

"What will you do now?"

Hermione couldn't stand still. Once she was inside his cottage and Millie was properly greeted with a scratch behind her ears, she started pacing around the small space. Rodolphus longed to reach out to grab her, reassure her, but he didn't. The temptation to never let her go was too strong. If she was only there for a friendly ear, he was not going to complicate matters.

"I don't… I don't really know."

She stopped pacing to collapse onto the sofa with a deep sigh. He kept a safe distance by sitting in his chair.

"I filed for divorce."

Her confession was soft, hardly audible. She stared at his face, seeking something he wasn't sure of.

"Before I left, I filed the proper paperwork. I'll be a single woman again in just a few weeks."

"And are you… _sad_ about that?"

"No. It was the right thing to do. Should've done it a long time ago."

There was very little to celebrate in a failed marriage. Rodolphus heard of there being relief at a divorce, but even when the two made little sense together and they were unhappy, there was still sadness and grief that came with the dissolution of marriage. It wasn't something that was easily recovered from. Likely, she would spend the rest of her life feeling at least a tiny measure of sorrow that it hadn't worked out. It was human nature to regret the past.

"My friend Harry tried to talk me out of it."

She wiped at her eyes. Needing to feel that he was doing _something_ helpful, Rodolphus leaned over to hand her a clean handkerchief. Seeing her cry tore at his heart. The Chosen One or not, part of him wanted to seek out Harry Potter and finish what the Dark Lord was incapable of completing.

"One of the women I attacked called out for the aurors when I went back to her office. Even after I apologized for what happened, she refused to help me. Harry and a couple of other aurors showed up. When I told him why I was there and how I didn't want to cause any trouble, he just asked me if I was _sure_ that I wanted to get a divorce. He told me that Ron was sorry and wanted to try to make it work. Why wouldn't I give him the chance?"

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Unable to sit still while she cried, Rodolphus ignored all of the warnings shouting in his head. He sat down next to her on the sofa, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and tried to remember how to breathe when she laid her head against him. It felt so _right_ with her in his arms.

"I'm not sure that Harry will ever forgive me. He's always taken Ron's side. _Always_. I was only ever his best friend when Ron wouldn't speak to him. The _backup_ , if you will."

"If he won't forgive you for doing what you believe is best for you, he's not really your friend. He will be no great loss."

Rodolphus was never good at comforting upset women. There had been very few opportunities to practice in his past. Bellatrix certainly never needed him. At least not for long. He hoped that he wasn't making it all worse by telling her what he believed. Potter might have been a good friend in the past, but if he wasn't willing to recognize how miserable Hermione was and actually encourage her to stay miserable, he didn't think even the Boy-Who-Lived deserved to have her in his life for another moment.

"I was wrong to throw you out."

Whatever he expected her to say after insulting one of her best friends certainly wasn't _that_. Caught off-guard, he wasn't sure what to say. She gently pushed away from his chest to get a better look into his face. Her hand remained just above his rapidly beating heart.

"I was scared. I didn't want to get hurt again. I would never be able to introduce you to my friends or have anything close to a normal life with you. I was afraid to get attached, to dream up a fantasy that would never be real. There's no future for us together…"

"No, there's not."

He sighed, all hope that they could ever get past the obstacles that kept them apart shattered. Nothing she said was wrong.

"…in _this_ country."

Just as quickly as the hope disappeared, it reappeared. Rodolphus stared into her brown eyes, desperate for some kind of assurance that he hadn't misheard her words. A hint of a smile quirked at the corner of the lips he longed to kiss. Could she really be suggesting what he hoped she was suggesting? He needed confirmation before his heart burst with the unrealistic hope.

"What are you saying, Hermione?"

"I resigned from my job today too. Everything I own is in a bag just outside your door. I have _nothing_ keeping me here any longer. No family, no friends. Let's run away together."

A kiss was his answer to her suggestion. She eagerly responded. Suddenly, starting over in a new country didn't seem so terrifying. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that they wouldn't have moments of difficulty up ahead of them. No relationship would ever be perfect. Especially not with their histories. But, he was excited to try. The solution to their problems and the lack of a travel columnist for the newspaper he bought because of her became clear. Breaking their kiss to catch their breaths, he smiled.

"How would you like a new job that will allow you to travel all around the world staying in the finest resorts?"

"With you?"

He was only able to nod his head once before she kissed him again, effectively sealing the deal to become his newest columnist and so much more. Maybe eventually enough time would pass and they would come to discover that they weren't right for each other or that they couldn't make each other happy. Until that time came, _if_ that time came, Rodolphus was determined that they were going to enjoy every single moment together.

The End.


End file.
